


Learn To Love Again

by AnonymousDH



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5299013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousDH/pseuds/AnonymousDH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flash. A bang. A scream.<br/>His voice, calling her name.<br/>It's two months since she last heard his voice. She visits him everyday, it's become a new ritual. It's not a long drive, but it's a drive she never imagined to make. To a place she never imagined to visit him. When everything you ever wanted is within arms reach, yet so far away. Is it possible to learn to love again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beautiful Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to start posting my fics on AO3 too. Starting with my newest, Learn To Love Again. I hope you enjoy it. - M

 

_She feels the grass tickle her bare feet with every step she takes. She listens to the sound of the birds around her, the way the wind plays with the leaves of the trees. But mostly she listens to his voice, as his hands are covering her eyes. He’s telling her to follow him, to trust him. It’s all she’s ever done. Trust him, follow him. She feels his warm breath tickle her neck as his lips are nearly touching her ear. “Just two more steps,” he whispers, placing a small kiss at the end of her jaw as he removes his hands._

_She lets out another breath before she opens her eyes, her gaze meeting his as he’s standing in front of her now. He’s giving her his Specter smirk and she can’t help but smile at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Letting her body lean against his as he takes her in his arms, their temples pressed together. “I’m happy,” she tells him and it’s the truth, she’s never been so happy. “Good,” he whispers before he kisses her, lifting her up._

_She holds onto him as he lays her down on the plaid. His lips still savouring hers, only stopping as both of them need to catch a breath. He smiles at her again, “Cause that’s all I ever wanted,” he tells her, “for you to be happy. I love you, Donna.” His words warming her heart all over again. He moves his hand through her hair, as he’s hovering above her. His eyes still locked with his. “I’ll never let you go again,” he tells her, bringing his lips to hers again._

_“And I won’t let you go,” she tells him, “not ever. Not after everything we’ve been through to get together.” She moves her hand over his face, her fingers lingering around his moles as she smiles at him again. Her head now turning to the right, looking at the picnic basket he brought along. He follows her gaze, his hand opening the basket and reaching for the bottle of champagne._

_She eyes the bottle and spots the can of whipped cream next to it. “What do we have to celebrate?” she asks his teasingly. His eyes lit up as he brings her back to sit on his lap. His hand is still holding onto hers, his fingers running over her ring. “Us,” he smiles kissing her, “happy one month anniversary,” he whispers opening the bottle._

_They toast on them, on what has been and what is to come.  To the future, their future. Cause after twelve years all that’s coming can only be happiness, they reason. And even though it’s what they really deserve, maybe they were just too optimistic._

 

 

_She’s holding his hand, their fingers interlocked and she’s looking at him. And he’s looking at her with an affection she’s never seen before. He turns her around again, his hand removing a strand of hair from her face, before he kisses her again. His lips sucking on her bottom lip, waiting for her to open her mouth to him. She does, greeting his tongue with hers. Both of them so preoccupied with the other, they don’t notice how it has started to rain. The cold droplets falling on their face, but all they feel is heat._

_She brakes the kiss, smiling on his lips before she lets her head rest against his chest. He places a kiss on top of her head before he looks to the sky that’s turning darker and darker by the second. “Let’s go,” he whispers as he tugs her hand, making her walk. “Let’s run away together.”_

_She follows him instinctively, it’s all she’s ever done. It’s something she’ll always do. Follow him, because she’s not letting him slip away. Not anymore. His feet increase the pace and she follows, until they’re running down the street. His pace still increasing, but somehow her legs won’t let her. Their arms now slightly parting, their hands still holding onto each other. “Harvey, wait,” she mumbles, but there’s no answer._

_His pace increases again and their fingers start to untangle, she feels him slip away. The warmth of his hand immediately being replaced by a cold air. Her hand still lingers in the air as she calls out his name, but he doesn’t look around._

_“Harvey,” she calls out again, but the distance between them is still increasing. The area around her getting darker by the second, until she’s barely able to see him. She’s not sure whether that’s because of the darkness or the tears forming in her eyes, it’s most likely a combination. She feels like she’s losing him and even though she keeps calling for him her voice dies in an inaudible whisper, until his figure completely disappears in the distance._

_A white light flashes in front of her, she has to close her eyes at the brightness and her face cringes at the intense sound that’s coming towards her. She hears a bang, a scream, his voice. Just calling out her name, mumbling a soft goodbye, before it all turns to darkness again._

_He’s gone._

_A tear runs down her face as she whispers a last goodbye, “I love you, Harvey.”_

* * *

 

 

She tries to move around again, but her legs won’t let her, tangled in the sheets. She slowly opens an eye as she’s greeted by the darkness of the room around  her. She turns around under the sheets, heavily breathing as she’s still waking up from her nightmare. Her hand travels over the bed. To the spot next to her, her fingers waiting to be greeted by the warmth of his body, but all there’s left is an empty and cold space. Her fingers cling onto the sheets, her brain replaying the nightmare that wasn’t just a dream.

Maybe they really were too optimistic. Maybe they were just too much in love to see it happen. Maybe it was fate, however neither of them had seen it coming. And neither was to blame, because how can one prepare for such an event to happen. How can one guess the other will be torn out of your life just like that.

 

A flash. A bang. A scream. 

His voice.

Calling her name, but she never heard it. His voice, the one she hasn’t heard since.

 

The images of the dream that wasn’t a dream flashing for her eyes again. Just like the night before and the night before that. Just like every night since the time she said goodbye.  A tear runs down her face as she whispers his name, her fingers still holding onto the sheet where his body is supposed to be.

 

“Harvey.”

 


	2. Touches

Another tear runs down her face, and it’s being followed by the next and the next. His name slowly dying on her lips as she’s unable to pronounce his name once more. Her fingers hold on to the sheets of the empty spot besides her, the duvet not being able to keep her warm anymore. It hasn’t been able to keep her warm ever since that one night, as if him being ripped out of her life like that wasn’t enough. In everything she did she felt she needed him, sleeping also being one of those things.

 

But she tries, she tries to go to sleep. To fight whatever it is she’s stuck in, just like she always fought for him, for them. She’ll never give up fighting, not even now. She buries her face in his pillow, inhaling his scent that’s barely lingering around as she closes her eyes again. The memories of him rushing back, until her breath steadies and she drifts away again.

 

But it’s not for long, as her mind replaces the happy memories she trying to hold on to so desperately with that dream again. Or another variant of it, but they all end in the exact same way.

_A flash. A bang. A scream._

_His voice._

_Calling her name, but she never heard it._

Exactly the way it really happened; the dream that wasn’t a dream waking her up again and again that night. Just like every night since it happened. She lets out a sigh as she tosses and turns around in the bed, not willing to give in to the dreams, but she’s so tired. So tired of having that same dream over and over again, so tired of having to relive that horrible memory every single second of her being. Like it isn’t enough to constantly think about it when she’s awake. It doesn’t matter what she does anymore. Whether she sleeps or stays awake, the images always flashing by her eyes.

 

She pushes herself up, letting her back rest against the headboard of the bed as her eyes are trying to adjust to the darkness. She looks at the alarm clock on his side of the bed and it’s only four in the morning, she focusses on her breathing as her gazes fixates on his pillow. She’s trying to recall how he’d pull her closer if she’d wake up in the middle of the night. How he’d press his lips against her neck and whisper that she should go back to sleep. How she’d relax in his embrace, but now when she needs that the most, there are no arms to relax in. Not anymore.

 

Instead her fingers fidget with his pillow until she lifts it up all together, pulling it in her arms. Holding on to it tightly she hugs it, bringing her head forward, letting it rest on her knees; as the tears fall once more. Her soft sobs alternatingly filling the darkness around her with his name; until she falls in the same pattern as before. Her words, it’s only one word, his name, dying on her lips.

 

It’s only an hour and half later as she moves around his apartment, _their apartment_ , she corrects herself. The floor cold against her bare feet, not that she feels it. She can’t feel anything anymore; not besides the constant pain her heart is in. The hole he left behind being too big; too big to focus on any physical pain.

 

She walks towards the kitchen, her fingers going over the newspaper that still on his desk. The one from that day, the date staring her in the face, but she can’t bring herself to throw it away. Her eyes now lingering on the glass of scotch that’s still standing next to the sink. The glass of scotch that he drank the night before. The night before he left, the night before it happened.

The flowers he’d given her the day before that are still in the vase, but to still call them flowers is too much. It are now only stems as the leaves have fallen off. They’ve been there for weeks already, but it’s another one of those things she can’t change.

 

Her fingers run across the area of the counter next to it. A bit of dust collecting on her finger tops, and she brings her fingers to her lips, blowing the dust away. She wishes she could do that with the pain she’s feeling, the hopelessness of the situation she’s feeling. It’s been two months after all. Two months since she last heard his voice, two months since he kissed her. But she can’t, she just can’t.

 

She visits him every day, seven days a week at exactly the same hour. She can’t believe that’s become their new ritual, but it has. It isn’t  a long drive, but it’s a drive she never imagined to make. To a place she never imagined to visit him, but she does.

 

She lets out a deep breath as she steps over the threshold, swallowing as she sees what’s left of him. It’s still him, it’s still her husband. It’s still Harvey, but at the same time he isn’t. Not really, not anymore. Tears welling in her eyes as she feels these thoughts are taking over, and she can’t allow herself to think like that. She’s after all always been the one that fought, for him, for them.

 

She pushes the empty chair towards his bed, sitting herself down next to him. Just like every morning. Her hand covers his and she interlocks their fingers, as she lets the index finger of her other hand runs over his ring finger. The mark of his wedding ring still visible.

 

She stays with him for an hour, just talking to him. Telling him whatever comes to mind. her fingers now playing with the ring on her necklace. The ring with her name engraved in it. His ring.

 

She lifts herself out of the chair, just standing next to his bed for a couple of seconds. Finally she leans towards him, bringing her lips to his. She kisses him softly, her right hand still holding onto his left hand.

 

“I miss you,” she whispers, her heart skipping a beat as she feels his fingers move in her hand.

 


	3. Waiting For You

 

She freezes on the spot, her mouth agape as nearly every muscle in her body freezes for a second.  Except for her hand, letting go of his hand in complete shock of what she had just felt. Her eyes blink twice, her heart rate increases again and her hand instantly moves back to cover his.

 

“Harvey?” she mumbles unsure if she really felt him move or if it was just her imagination, her deepest wishes projecting it. Making her feel things that aren’t there. “Harvey,” she mumbles again, the desperation in her voice clearly noticeable as she squeezes his hand. Her fingers pressing in his cold skin, but there’s no response. Nothing.

 

“Harvey,” she mumbles, a tear running down her face again as she waits a couple of more minutes. But it’s time, time to let go. Time to leave, she tells herself as she lifts her hand again, but it will never be time to move on. To forget. She knows she’ll never be ready for that.

 

With a sigh and a heavy heart she finally lifts her fingers from his hand, letting them trace the edge of the bed, until she lets go all together. Her feet carrying her over that threshold again, taking the same firm steps she takes day after day. Never looking back, because looking back and seeing him like that again would be last drop that could make the bucket flow over. That last push that would made her crumble, fall apart. So she did what was so used to all other years; she didn’t look back.

 

She wraps her scarf around her neck, dabbing some tears that were forming in her eyes with the fabric before her feet have carried her to the man that was waiting for her outside. Just like every other day, the man that had always brought them, but mostly him where ever he needed to go. That’s also why he did this now, drive her to the one place she really needed to go. Even if it was the same boring drive day after day, he did.

 

“Thank you, Ray,” she whispered as he opened the door for her. “Donna,” he nodded, swallowing in the questions that were burning on his tongue. He really wanted to know, but he ever asked. Not wanting to burden her any further, maybe even slightly picking up on the trade she was so skilled at. He already knew nothing had changed.

 

These drives, these visits come and go. Day after day it’s the same, the same drive. The same hospital, the same room, the same hour. And no progress, it’s all the same, unwillingly becoming a new ritual, but it’s still with him and her. It’s still them.

 

 

 

 

 

She holds his hand again, her thumb running over his fingers. Opening her mouth for the umpteenth time that day, but the words fail to leave her mouth. She doesn’t know what to say anymore, so she just looks at him. Listens to the way he’s breathing and she stares at those two moles above his left eyebrow. Her fingers now softly caressing them as she mumbles that she loves him.

 

“Mrs. Specter,” the young nurse greets the redhead as she enters the hospital room. Donna looks up from her husband towards the young blonde girl, she’s seen her before. She knows it’s the nurse that’s been looking after him, but she can’t remember the girls name.

 

Maybe she never really bothered to learn the girls name, maybe she forgot on purpose. She doesn’t know anymore. She’s been having trouble remembering what’s going on ever since the accident. She just nods at the younger woman, who’s now checking some charts at the footboard of the hospital bed.

 

Donna’s eyes fixate on the name tag the girl’s wearing, it reads Alicia and the soft smile that was formed on her lips slowly disappears as she remembers how he once used to go out with a girl with that name. It was back in the D.A.’s office, but she still knows. She’s always known.

 

“Will he wake up?” the redhead asks then, the words barely leaving her lips. It’s a sentence she hasn’t been able to pronounce for weeks, yet it was the only question she used to ask in the beginning. It’s not like she’s getting used to the situation, because she isn’t. How can one get used to the fact that after waiting twelve years for the man you love, him to be taken away within just months after you could officially call yourself his.

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Specter,” the nurse answers.  “Unfortunately there’s no indication in time I could give you,” she tells the redhead as she places the charts back. “But it’s been two months,” Donna recalls out loud, the conversation with Doctor Morsh of that night two months ago on repeat in her mind.

 

 

_She lets her fingers fall around the cup of tea, blowing it before she takes a sip and she smiles. Smiles as she looks around their apartment. Still not completely believing that after all those years they had everything, they finally had everything._

_She lets herself lean back against the armrest of the couch, pulling her legs besides her as her fingers swipe through some pictures on her phone. Mostly of them, of him and she stares at their wedding picture for a moment. A photo that was already taken four months ago. Something she’s barely unable to grasp, how the time flies when one’s happy._

_She takes another sip of her tea, her lips curling up even further as she reads the text he had send her just a couple of hours ago again. Just before he boarded the firms private plane._

**_I already miss you. – H_ **

****

_She reads the text again, only one conclusion coming to mind. She already misses him too and she closes her eyes, still feeling his lips on hers. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Pressing one last kiss against her temple as he said goodbye._

_Her memory being roughly interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing, her eyes popping open as she sees his face appear on the screen. A wave of nausea hits her immediately, because it’s too soon. Too soon for him to call, too soon for him to have arrived on his destination. Her index finger pressing the answer button as the lump in her throat grows._

_“Harvey?” she mumbles, but there’s nothing. Just an extremely loud noise, followed by a bang. The phone dropping from her hand as she closes her eyes, images of her imagination flashing in front of her eyes._

_Every minute after that is a blur. She can’t remember who told her; if it was Jessica calling her or the police. If they showed up at her place, or if she went to the hospital by herself. She just remembers the looks of the faces she knew so well, but seemed so foreign in that moment._

_They won’t let her see him. The words plane crash, badly injured and surgery on repeat in her mind. She feels her knees give in, her legs being unable to carry her own weight, but her body never reaches the ground. Maybe it were Rachel’s arms or Mike’s, maybe it were both of them. Maybe it was Jessica or Marcus, she can’t remember. The tears streaming down her face blurring her view, his face the only thing she still saw. His name the only word that leaves her lips, over and over again. Starting as a scream, slowly turning in a whisper until his name dies on her lips all together._

_Minute after minute pass, before they turn into hours. And maybe even days, she’s not sure. She’s lost all sense of time, all she knows is every second she isn’t with him is one too much. And unlike that afternoon, when time seemed to fly it’s like time freezes when she watches a man approach her. A man in a white coat, his head hanging low, a look on his face she’s seen one to many times._

_The look of defeat, the look of despair. She didn’t think it was possible, but her heart crumbles yet again as the man indeed stops in front of her. Her silent prayers wishing the doctor would just walk past her, clearly being unanswered as she hears the words she doesn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Specter.”_

_“Your husband is in a coma. The plane crash your husband was in left him severely injured. He has lost a lot of blood and he’s still in a critical stage, but given the circumstances a coma might be a good thing,” dr. Lursh tries to explain. But the words don’t register, all she heard was coma._

_“Will he wake up?,” she blurts out, “will he wake up again?”_

_The doctor presses his lips together, the one question he can’t answer. And he tries to calm her down as Marcus wraps his arms around his sister in law, holding her in place. “Mrs. Specter, please calm down,” the doctor mumbles again._

_She’s fighting the tears, but she can’t hold them anymore. “Will he wake up?” she asks again, “Please?”_

_“It’s too soon to say,” he continues, “We’ll have to wait.”_

_“Will he wake up?” she asks again. She’s in shock and it’s the only question that leaves her lips, like a broken record she repeats the same question. Again and again. “Will he wake up?_

_Doctor Morsh looks at Marcus, the younger man nodding as he’s fighting his own tears. “She needs… you need to give it time,” he repeats, “at least two months.”_

 

“It’s been two months,” she mumbles again. To herself, to him. To let him know its time, it’s time to wake up. To let him know that’s she has been waiting. No, that they have been waiting, she corrects herself as her left hand runs over her growing stomach.

 

“We’re waiting for you Harvey,” she mumbles.

 


	4. Give Me A Sign

The young nurse looks at the pregnant redhead with pity and she swallows at the sight in front of her. How the redhead is fighting the tears, the fingers of her right hand interlaced with his hand. Her other hand still on her prominent stomach. The nurse let out a soft sigh, thinking about how tragic it must be to have your family ripped apart like that, especially when they should have been celebrating a happy time. “I’ll leave you two alone,” the nurse whispers.

The words of the nurse barely register, but Donna nods in return. A tear running down her face as she looks at her husband again. The skin around his eyes is dark, the tubes in his mouth and nose are helping him to breath and the bandage around his head hiding the scar she’s sure is underneath it, but hasn’t seen yet. Just like those moles she hasn’t seen in two months. 

Her fingers lingering on the bandage above his left eye, tracing the line between those two marks just like he used to do between the freckles on her own skin. The memories sending shivers down her spine as she recalls the effect he used to have on her, still has on her. She can nearly feel the warmth radiating from his hand as he used to caress her arm, but it’s only a memory. A bittersweet memory.

With a heavy heart she lets her fingers trail down his jaw and arm until she reaches his hand again. Her fingers falling around his wrist and she caresses the palm of his hand as she slowly lifts his arm. Creating a space on the bed next to him, just enough for her to sit. Something she does soon after, just like every single day for the past two months.

“Harvey,” she whispers softly as she lays herself next to him. Resting the temple of her head in the crook of his neck, her auburn locks scattered over his shoulder and the pillow underneath them. Their hands are still intertwined and once more she doesn’t know what to say. She just listens to the beeping of the machines, those exact machines that are keeping him alive, his heavy breaths along with it. And she can’t help but wonder what would happen if she’d pull the plug.

Not that she would, not ever, because she can’t be without him.. but more in the way Izzie did with Denny she concludes. A desperate attempt to make a change, but she’s seen that show. She knows how that ended and she just can’t. 

As soon as the thought even crossed her mind it’s replaced by a memory of them dancing at their wedding and she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it, but she hums their song. The one that was playing in the background the night he finally found the courage to tell her how he loved her. The same song they danced to on their wedding. The song she knows by heart, word for word because it was them. It is them, but ever since the accident she hasn’t sung it. At least not out loud, not the words. 

She hums along, this time her lips pronouncing the words she hasn’t been able to say as she feels the baby kick for the first time. The singing stops instantly by the shock, her mouth left agape as she feels their unborn child kick again. A soft but yet firm kick against her skin.

She lifts his hand, placing it on her belly as another tear runs down her face. A tear from happiness that after all that has happened, she still got to share this moment with him, but a tear non the less. “Harvey,” she whispers again, “do you feel that Harvey?” she asks him, remaining silent herself for a couple of seconds. “That’s our daughter,” she whispers. “We’re going to have a little girl, Harvey,” she adds swallowing, “our little girl needs you, Harv. Please wake up, please..” 

She feels their daughter kick again, the bittersweet moment making her swallow. How ironic it is that she’s carrying this brand new life inside of her, while she’s lying next to the man she’s unsure of if he will ever really live again. Her heart skipping a beat as she now feels the same tick against her stomach, but this time not from within. It are his fingers tapping her belly. 

“Harvey?” she mumbles again, lifting her face as she looks at him. A tear running down his cheek. “Harvey,” she ‘s barely able to pronounce his name again, tears now streaming down her own face. “Harvey, please.. ” she whispers her thumb whipping away the tear on his cheek, but she doesn’t get another response. “Harvey please.”

She lifts herself up a bit more, sitting on the edge again and she can’t not look at him. Her eyes are scanning his entire body. Looking for a sign, just anything. But there’s nothing and she’s this close to shaking him around, trying to wake him up herself, but she knows it won’t help. 

Letting out a sigh she lifts herself from the bed, her feet carrying her to the hallway. “Nurse,” she mumbles as she’s trying to maintain her balance by holding the door frame. “Nurse,” she calls again, louder this time. The panic in her voice clearly coming to the surface. 

The young nurse snaps her head to the direction of the room she just left as she hears Donna call for her. And she rushes back to the redhead as she sees her nearly hanging in the door opening, clearly shocked about something. “Mrs. Specter,” she starts holding the four month pregnant woman, “please sit down,” she continues as she accompanies her to the chair. 

“But- “Donna protests, her arms trying to block the grip form Alicia. “Mrs. Specter,” the nurse continues again, more firmly this time. “He moved,” she bursts out now, “he moved his hand. He cried. He..”

“Mrs. Specter, please,” Alicia begs again, “please sit down and I’ll check on your husband,” she adds making sure Donna is seated as she walks over to Harvey. She does some basic tests but the responses are minimal. 

Donna eyes the nurse, the way she tests his pupils, feels his pulse. The same things they test every damn time and just like all the other times she feels uneasy. Because the fact that she already knows the answer, doesn’t mean she won’t ask. “Does that mean he’s waking up?” it’s the same question as always, “it has to, right? He’s going to wake up,” the redhead continues, always seeming to be positive. Even now, even in this situation.

The nurse swallows turning towards her again. “Mrs. Specter, your husband has been in a coma for two months,” the nurse starts telling as she’s reading his chart again, “that means he’s now in a coma vigil.”  
“A what?” she mumbles, “but he moved! He’s got to wake up,” she explains again.

“We’re not sure. These signs are common after two months. Patients start opening their eyes, they often move or respond to certain stimuli. They start feeling pain again, they often cry,” the nurse pauses, “but we cannot say if and when the patient will wake up. I’m sorry.”

“No, no!” Donna cries out, “no! But he moved, he –“ she chokes on her words, tears still streaming down her face. “Mrs. Specter,” Alicia tries to calm her down, “I’m sorry but maybe its best if you’d go home for now?”

Donna shakes her head, her watery eyes fixed on the blonde. “No,” she mumbles getting herself out of her chair as she walks over to him again, pushing away the arms of the nurse. “No. I’m not leaving him,” she adds making the nurse sigh, but she nods. “Okay,” Alicia decides then, “but I have to remind you that the visiting hours are over in half an hour.”

Donna doesn’t look at the other woman, she just nods. Holding his hand again, the tears have dried up or she’s run out of them, either way she’s not crying anymore. She just looks at him, scanning every inch of his face. Looking for any sign of movement, anything. How little it may be. “Harvey,” she mumbles again, “Harvey please if you can hear me..-“ 

“Harvey, if you’re there… if you’re still there,” she chokes on her words again. “Please… please just give me a sign, Harvey. Anything… Just plea-“ the rest of her words failing as she feels his hand shaking under hers. It’s just a couple of seconds. Two at the most, but it’s something. 

Just that little sign she asked for and she can’t help but feel her lips curl up slightly. “Hey,” she mumbles now her hand holding his again, their moment interrupted again as the nurse tells her it’s time to go. She leans towards him, her free hand caressing his face and she whispers that she loves him. Giving him a soft kiss on his lips before she walks away, not noticing how his lips are pushing against hers again.


	5. Waking Up

 

She focusses on the tone of her heels hitting the linoleum floor of the hospital , trying to block out the noise of the machines beeping. The sound of his breaths along with them and her hand traces the edge of the bed as she walks away. Stopping in the door opening, to look over her shoulder. Looking at him one last time, unlike all the other visits she looks at him. Because this visit wasn’t like any other.

 

It felt different, no feels different and she lets out a sigh as her head faces the hall way again. She knows the end is near, she just doesn’t know to which end she’s referring to and she can’t allow herself to think like that. She’s got to believe, for him, for her, for them. But mostly for their daughter. A small smile forming on her lips as her right hand moves over her baby bump again, her feet carrying her outside again.

 

.

 

“Mrs. Specter,” she’s greeted like always as the door to black Lexus is being held open for her.

“Ray,” she gives him a sad smile, her hand covering his wrist as she stops to look at him, “it’s Donna…you know that.. please,” she begs him and he nods, just like every other time she tells him to call her Donna. “Donna,” he smiles helping the redhead in the car.

 

She lets her head rest against the left back seat of the car as she closes her eyes for a couple of seconds. It’s not her spot in the car, it’s his, but ever since the accident she’d moved to that side of the car. Somehow feeling closer to him. She knows it is all in her head, but to her, this spot feels like him. Like his perfume still lingers around the safety belt.

 

Feeling the baby kick again, as if the unborn acknowledged her thoughts at that exact moment, her hand moves to the corresponding spot. An nearly inaudible hello leaving her lips as her eyes fixate on the black and white pattern that clads her body.

 

She feels the sudden need to see her. Their daughter and her hands reach for her purse, searching for the sonogram she took a couple of weeks ago. Tears welling in her eyes as she thinks about how she should have shown him that picture, even though he wouldn’t have been able to see it. She should have shown him regardless.

 

Her fingers trace the corrugated edge of the plastic CD case that had been in her purse since that last day she’d seen him. _“Let Ray play this when he’ll drive you around,”_ she recalls him saying and with a heavy swallow she lets her head drop. She hadn’t been able to do so yet, not even fully realizing she is now. But her hand moves faster than her brain can register.

 

“Ray,” she whispers, her hand extending the case and the other man looks over his shoulder to his boss’s wife, simply nodding as he takes the case from her hand. “Good choice,” he comments as he turns around again, his fingers opening the case. “It’s his,” she whispers her eyes meeting the drivers in the rear view mirror for a second, while Ray slides the disc into the player.

 

Mere seconds later she feels her heart ache, tears starting to well in her eyes as their song fills the space around her. Soft sobs now covering the music as she hears his voice through the speakers. His laugh, the way he says her name, an ‘I love  you’ and she swallows realising he must have made this for her after their wedding.

 

Ray looks over his shoulder again, the crying redhead catching his eye and he wishes he knew what to do. How to make it better for her, but his questions remain the same. “Donna,” he calls her and she looks up at him, “how-“

 

“Ray, please..” she whispers, stopping him, “Please don’t ask how he’s doing cause I..”

 

“Donna,” he mumbles again, “how are _you_ doing? I’m worried about you.” She shakes her head, “I’m ..” and he looks at her in the mirror, the way she swallows, trying to stop the tears. “No you’re not,” he continues as pulls the car to the side. “I may be over stepping.. but I think it’s time to talk to someone.. Really talk to someone about what happened.”

 

“Ray,” she sighs, “I don’t..” she can’t even pronounce the words therapy. She always used to be the one to be in touch with her feelings. With how not only she, but everyone was feeling and she just can’t right now.

“I’m not going to..”

 

“I meant a friend,” he mumbles just before he gets out of the car. Giving the brunette a small nod as he walks around the car, towards Donna’s door. Reluctantly the redhead gets out of the car and her head turns to the right, another wave of emotions hitting her as she sees the rest of the Pearson Specter Litt family waiting for her.

 

“Donna,” the young lawyer calls her best friend as she moves closer, wrapping her arm around her to support her as the redhead nearly goes through her knees the second she hears them call for her. “Donna,” Louis calls out supporting her as well as they party walks inside the firm.

 

.

 

They bring the woman, who’s tried so hard to be alone all this time, towards his office and that’s where she loses it completely. Tears streaming down her face as she sees his empty desk. The room not having changed in the past two months, except for the bouquet of flowers on his desk. Harvey’s desk.

 

“Donna,” the managing partner speaks as the redhead looks up to her from the couch. “Please know we are all here for you,” she smiles, “we will always be here for you,” she adds placing her hand on the shoulder of the woman. She nods, mumbling a soft sorry as she lets her head rest on the shoulder of her best friend.

 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about,” Rachel whispers as the rest leaves the two women alone. The hand of the young lawyer moves over the auburn locks, as she feels the tears of the older woman run down her neck. “You know we’ll always be here for you,” she whispers again, “we love you Donna.”

 

.

 

“I think I’m losing it,” she hears the redhead mumble softly then and she swallows, bringing the woman back up to face her. “Donna?” she mumbles waiting for her to respond, “what’s going on?” she whispers, neither of those at the firm knowing how Harvey has been doing.

 

“I..” she mumbles, “maybe I’m imagining it..” she adds swallowing. Rachel crooks her head, her hands running up and down the arms of Donna. “What do you mean?” she whispers carefully and the red head lets out another sigh. “I.. Maybe I’m seeing things I  want to see.. things that aren’t there…but” she pauses, “it feels so real, Rach.. and I.. I can’t go on like this.”

 

“Hey,” the brunette whispers, “Donna.. what happened?” But the redhead shakes her head, a desperate look on her face. “He moved.. I .. “ she chokes on her words, “I felt him move,” she cries then, “he moved but –“

 

“I know,” Rachel mumbles pulling Donna back in a hug, a tear now rolling over her own cheek, feeling heartbroken for her friend. “I think they might not believe me anymore,” she whispers then, “I felt him move.. Rach.. I felt it, I felt his fingers tapping against my stomach.. but.. they –“

 

“It… it never happens when there’s –“ she whispers. “Donna, do you want me to come along?” she offers and the redhead nods,  “yes.. please.”

 

.

 

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed again, her hand covering his as she looks up from her husband to Rachel. A thin smile on her lips as the brunette nods. “I just miss him so much, Rach,” she whispers, “I.. I just need him to –“ the rest  of the words remain unspoken as she feels his fingers move under her hand, her head instantly turning towards him again.

 

“Donna,” the brunette whispers walking towards her, “Donna what’s happening?” she asks in concern as she redhead looks at her again. “His.. hand,” she mumbles lifting her own again to show it, “see.. he’s.. he’s moving.”

 

“OMG,”  Rachel whispers, “Donna.. that’s.. that’s amazing,” she smiles and the redhead nods. “Yeah,” she whispers, “it’s just not enough,” she sighs as she looks at him again. He hand caressing his face as she places a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Harvey,” she mumbles before sitting up again. “I just… if… if only he’d blink or… or open his eyes,” she whispers, her thumb caressing the palm of his hand as she looks at the brunette again. “Please,” she adds softly, with a thin smile.

 

.

 

“D..Donn,” the brunette stutters as she moves towards them, pointing at him. “Look,” she hears her best friend say just before her eyes land on his again. Her breath being taken away as she sees his eyes blinking a few times. “Rach..” she mumbles, soon feeling the hands of the brunette on her shoulders. “Rach, is.. is this really happening?” she asks.

 

“Yes,” Rachel cries placing a kiss on top of Donna’s head. “Yes, it is..” she hugs her, “I’m going to get a –“ her sentence being interrupted by some inaudible words coming from the man in the room. “Harvey,” Donna whispers, “Harvey are you there?”

 

The brunette runs to the hallway, calling for a nurse as she rushes back to Donna soon after. She still hears him cough, even amongst the sobs coming from Donna. The way she’s holding onto him. Calling his name as her hand caress his face, every time an inaudible sound leaves his lips.

 

“What happened?” Alica asks the second she enters the room. “He.. he..” Donna mumbles, but she still in shock. “He blinked,” Rachel steps in as she walks to the nurse again, “his hand moved and –“

 

“Okay,” the nurse nods, “I need you two to leave the room,” she continues. “But,” Donna stumbles. “Mrs. Specter,” the nurse continues as she pages doctor Morsh, “these are good signs, but to be sure we need to examine your husband,” she tries to explain as she asks the brunette to take her away.

 

Rachel nods walking over to Donna, her arms falling around her as she slowly lifts Donna’s arms from his body. “It’s okay, Donna,” she whispers, “it’s okay, they will look after him,” she continues as she guides the redhead to the waiting room.

 

.

 

Donna’s head rests against Rachel’s shoulder as the brunette lets her hand run up and down the redheads arm. “He’ll be okay, Donna,” she whispers again, but Donna doesn’t respond. All she’s able to do is focus on that damn door. Her gaze hasn’t lifted from the object since the moment Rachel sat her down her. Not even when the rest of the Pearson Specter Litt family entered the waiting room.

 

A gasp finally leaves her lips as the door of his room opens again and she slowly lifts her head from Rachel’s shoulder. Her eyes now fixated on the brown haired man that’s walking towards her. “Harvey,” she mumbles, her hand finding Rachel’s for support, “is he..”

 

“Mrs. Specter,” dr. Morsh greets her as her looks around the room, “friends and colleagues,” he nods, before he faces the woman that’s holding her breath. “I have good news,” he tells them and a collective sigh is heard in the room. “Ooh my god,” Donna whispers, “is he ..”

 

“Awake, yes,” the doctor confirms, with a smile and Donna lets out another sigh. Bringing her hand to her mouth, still in shock. “We did some small tests,” the doctor continues, “he knows his name and that he’s a lawyer, but he was too tired to do any further –“

 

“Can I see him,” she interrupts dr. Morsh then. “Mrs. Specter,” the doctor continues again, “I think it’s best to let him rest and wait for further tests.”

 

“Please,” she begs, “please.. just.. I need .. I need to see him,” she whispers and Jessica places her hand on the shoulder of the redhead before she takes the doctor aside. Trying to reason with him why Donna needs this.

 

.

 

“Okay,” the doctor nods as he returns to the party. “Mrs. Specter is allowed to see her husband, no one else. We cannot put a patient who’s just woken up from a coma in too much pressure. Not before any other tests are completed,” he explains again and the group of friends nod as they watch Donna get out of her chair.

 

“Mrs. Specter,” dr. Morsh continues, “please follow me,” he adds as he guides her to the room. “As I said before, he’s asleep now. You are allowed to wait in here, for him to wake up again, but please let him wake up by himself,” he tells her. Donna nods at him before she walks to the bed again.

 

She sits down in the chair, not being able to move her gaze from his face. Her lips curled up in a permanent smile as her hand still covers his. Her thumb caressing the palm of his hand as she softly whispers his name, just waiting for him to wake up.

 

.

 

Half an hour passes before she feels his hand move again, his hand now squeezing her thumb and her gaze lifts again. She’s looking at his face, her smile growing when she sees him blink. Making her lift herself out of her chair and sitting down on the edge of his bed now. “Hey,” she whispers her hand still holding onto his.

 

He blinks a couple of times before he opens his eyes completely. The first thing he sees is the redheaded woman. "Harvey," she smiles, a tear from happiness running down her face as her hands cup his face. She moves closer, her lips covering his and she kisses him, smiling. “I’ve missed you so much,” she mumbles on his lips.

 

He closes his eyes in surprise, but her lips feel warm on his and he  kisses her back instinctively. Moving his hands upwards to cover hers, but he pulls back  from their kiss when he feels the wedding band on her finger. "I'm … I’m sorry I … I can't," he mumbles opening his eyes.

 

He’s looking at her now, confusion on his face. "You … you're married,” he mumbles shaking his head, “I… I don't ... Not with married women."  She moves back, her lips slightly apart as she's looking at him. "I… I'm sorry," she mumbles, her voice hoarse now.  
  
 "The ring," he continues, his hand turning hers around and he points at her fourth finger, "you're married.. I … I don't -" he shakes his head.  "We… we're married," she answers bringing her hand to his cheek, but he moves away from her touch. "Harvey?" she questions him, desperation now noticeable in her face.  
  
He nods, but the confused look on his face only increasing. "I'm sorry,” he mumbles,” but … but who are you?"


	6. Friends and Family

**Chapter 6: Family & Friends**

_Who are you?_  The words hitting her like a punch to the chest she gasps for air. Her mouth left agape as the million things she had wanted to say to him never leave her lips. Her eyes still directed towards him, she can’t stop staring at her husband.

 

“Who are you?” he repeats softly, his head crooked as he takes in the redheaded woman sitting on the edge of his bed. “Do I know you?”

 

Her eyelids close, a tear runs down her cheek as her bottom lips trembles. Swallowing, more and more tears follow until the sound of soft sobs fill his ears, making him take a big breath. His jaw clenching as he takes in how the woman covers her face with her delicate hands and even though he has no clue as to who she is, he already hates seeing her cry.

 

“Hey,” his hand brushing over her arm as he leans forward. “Don’t cry..” he whispers,  his fingers running down her arm until he hooks them around her elbow. “Please,” he adds as he waits for her to look up at him again. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

 

She’s fighting the tears, her gaze still somewhat directed at him. Her vision is blur, her thoughts not any clearer and she even wonders if this is joke. If he’s actually serious. She lets out a sigh, closing her eyes. Softly counting to ten, wondering if this is really happening. She doesn’t have to wait for someone to pinch her, just opening her eyes is enough. She meets those dark brown puppy eyes again, he’s looking at her like he used to do and her lips curl up slightly until she hears those words again. “What’s your name?”

 

“Donna,” she looks down.

 

He smiles at her mumbling her name, his hand removing a tear from her cheek before he reaches for her right hand. “Harvey Specter,” he adds shaking her hand, “nice to meet you.”

 

Her lips are pressed in a thin line, her jaw clenching as she fights the tears. “I’m sorry,” her voice breaks as her hand slips from his grip. “I’m.. I .. I need to get some air,” the words barely leaving her lips as she lifts herself from the bed. It’s then that he sees it, his eyes are drawn to it. Her baby bump, he gulps as the realization that the woman he just met is pregnant too.

 

“Donna,” he mumbles to himself but his mind draws blank.

 

.

Her head falls back against the door the second it’s closed behind her, tears now streaming down her face as her knees give in. Her back sliding down the wooden door until she lands on the ground.

 

“Donna,” Marcus calls as he rushes over to his sister in law. Kneeling down next to her he wraps his arm around the red head shoulders, bringing her head to rest against his chest as he just holds her for a couple of minutes while the rest of the guests patiently wait for Donna to tell them what has just happened.

 

When the breathing of the redhead has calmed down a bit, the younger man lifts his sister in law’s chin. “Donna,” he mumbles, “what happened?” he asks as he searches for an answer on her face. She shakes her head, her eyes glassy. “He doesn’t know who I am,” she answers her head hanging low.

 

Marcus’s eyes pop open. “He.. he doesn’t remember you?” he mumbles, thinking back to over a decade ago when his older brother couldn’t stop talking about his new secretary. “He..” unable to formulate the rest of his sentence he looks at his brother’s boss. “I’ll go find the doctor,” she tells them walking down the hallway.

 

.

 

“Is there anything we can do?” the managing partner speaks  as she walks besides dr. Lursh back to the group of friends. “We need to run some more tests,” he looks through the charts, “see what’s going on as he did remember his own name and how he works as a lawyer,” he reads the piece of paper in front of him.

 

Harvey lets his head rest against the pillow, the image of the redhead he had just met still coming to mind and he could hear the people on the hallway chatting about something, but he couldn’t make up what it was about. _Probably about him._

 

The door slowly opens and he crooks his head. A small smile on his lips as he expects to see the redhead again, but instead he sees someone he knows all too well. “Jessica,” he calls out loud his mouth dropping and he sees the surprising look on the woman’s face.

 

“Harvey?” she asks carefully, feeling awful as she looks at the red head on the seat behind her again. The man in the bed nods as he watches Jessica and the doctor enter her room. Dr. Lursh is about to ask some questions when the lawyer beats him too him. “I know you paid for my law school and all,” Harvey starts talking to Jessica, “but isn’t it too busy at Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke for you to visit me here?”

 

The managing partner mouth drops, “I’m sorry?”

 

“Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke,” he repeats with a laugh, “I know I left for the D.A.’s office eight months ago,  but you do still work there?” He looks at her, waiting for her answer, but when the woman remains speechless his own smile slowly fades away. “Don’t you?”

 

Dr. Lursh looks up from his notes to the still perplexed woman next to him. “Ms. Pearson?” he turns towards her, he’s not the one to know if the facts his patient is telling him are true.

 

“That was fifteen years ago,” she looks down.

 

.

 

It’s been forty eight hours since Harvey Specter woke up from his coma. Forty eight hours since the already unpleasant situation Donna found herself in got turned upside down once more. What are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to react when you husband wakes up from a coma only to find out he doesn’t know who you are? If you have to be brutally honest, what would you rather have?

 

She pushes away the negative thoughts. “He’s awake,” she mumbles to herself as she waits in the car for Marcus. Forty eight hours of uncertainty, forty eight extra hours of waiting. Forty eight hours of coming up with a plan. What will they do if this is a permanent thing? If he still doesn’t recognize her.

 

Forty eight hours.

 

That’s the time Dr. Lursh told them to wait. For more tests to be run. For the final diagnosis to be made. For the patient to be cleared, for them to prepare for whatever was coming.

 

“You ready?” Marcus crooks his head as he holds the door of the black Lexus open for her. She swallows taking the hand of her brother in law as she gets out of the car. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she whispers walking next to him to the entrance of the hospital.

 

They’re taken aside by one of the nurses. Brought to the office they can only assume belongs to Dr. Lursh, as they patiently wait for the news that’s going that bring everything back to normal, or change everything once more.

 

“Mr. Specter, Mrs. Specter,” the brown haired man nods as he closes his office door behind him, “thank you for meeting me here.” Donna nods, not being able to speak before she hears what she needs to hear. Marcus remaining quiet too, he’s never been the one to know which questions to ask. That was Harvey.

 

“We spend the past days doing several tests with Mr. Specter,” Dr. Lursh starts, “most of them being passed with flying colours, expect for the fact there still seems to be memory loss. The last thing Mr. Specter remembers is working on Johan Farmers case for bank – “

 

“Johan Farmer?” she repeats, her bottom lip trembling as she sees the doctor nod. The three of them know what it means and it isn’t good. “That’s the case he’d just won before we met,” she whispers, letting her head hang down.

 

“As I was saying, he’s still experiencing severe memory loss. That doesn’t mean it won’t come back, but I do not want you to get your hopes up.”

 

“What can we do?” Marcus asks, just to be sure. “He’s cleared to go home, but it’s best to be in an environment he remembers. Visiting places he’s worked in that period and after might help. Spending time with people he does remember is best for now,” Dr. Lursh presses his lips together in a thin line, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Specter.”

 

She pushes her chair back, letting out a heavy breath as she lifts herself out of her chair. Her eyes meeting Marcus’s and he nods, reassuring her once more to do what they agreed upon only a day ago. “Take care of him,” she whispers turning around in the door opening once more.

 

“I will.”

 

.

 

Marcus lets out one last breath before his hand falls around the doorknob, swinging the door open as he manages to produce a somewhat genuine smile. “Harveey,” Marcus greets his older brother, his eyebrows raised as he sees him sitting on the edge of the bed. Fully dressed, his feet dangling in the air. He hasn’t seen his brother do that since… Well, since ever.

 

Harvey’s head pops up at the sound of his brothers face. “Looooser,” he jumps of the bed, pulling his brother in a hug. “Okay, calm down with the hugs, Dickhead,” Marcus shakes his head patting Harvey on his back, “or I might as well leave you here.”

 

“Where are we going?” he asks walking side by side his brother. “Home,” the younger Specter man swallows, “my home,” he adds pointing at the Black Lexus that was still waiting for them. Harvey looks back and forth between the car, his mouth dropping as he appreciates what he’s seeing. “You drive a Lexus?” he’s shaking his head as Marcus opens the door for him to the seat where Donna had been sitting earlier. Marcus looks to the left as he nods to Donna who’s standing in the distance.

 

“Wait a second,” Marcus mumbles closing the door and Harvey turns around to face his brother again. There’s even a driver in this car, he’s got no clue as to how this is possible, but then he sees his bother walk towards the redhead he’d seen earlier.

 

He sees them embrace, exchange  a view words before she hands his brother a clothing bag. _“We’re married,”_ he remembers her telling him and he lets his head rest against the car window. Not sure what he’s supposed to do, but before he can get out of the car, Marcus sits down next to him. Placing the duffle bag in between them.

 

“It’s your car,” Marcus mumbles nodding to Ray in the rear view mirror, indicating he could drive off. “Mine?” he looks around the car again, nodding his head in appreciation. “Okay, I could get used to this,” he smirks, his tone happy but he notices the tension in the car. “What’s happening to her?” he looks at his brother then, “Donna?”

 

Marcus blinks twice, he had not expected Harvey to ask this. To even remember her name, he knows he’s seen her when he woke up. But after everything that’s happened, he didn’t think this would happen. “You remember her?” Marcus inquires carefully.

 

“Of course I do,” he smiles, “I mean it’s not every day you wake up with a gorgeous red head on your bedside, who kisses you and tells you you’re married,” he recalls the moment. “Harvey?”

 

“It’s hard to forget meeting someone in that way, Marcus,” he counters, but it clearly wasn’t the reaction his younger brother was hoping for. “It’s true,” Marcus throws him a smile, “the two of you are married, little baby girl on the way.”

 

“Donna and I decided it was best for you to spend some time with me first,” the younger man continues, “because... because you do remember me. Just till you’re used of not lying in bed all day.”

 

.

 

He stares at the red brick house. The steps leading to the front door. The wooden frame work whiter than he remembered it to be. This was the house they grew up in. The house of their parents, the one he waited outside in front of when he witnessed his mother taking of. The one he left his younger brother and father behind when he went back to the city. _His father,_  he swallows thinking about how Marcus said they we’re going to his house. He can only assume that Marcus lives here now. A thought that’s confirmed once he steps inside, seeing children’s toys both left and right. The sound of laughter coming from the living room, that’s clearly not them.

 

He walks into the room. Seeing the brunette he remembers his brother dated in high school holding a little girl in her arms. She can’t be older than four. “Katie,” he smiles, resulting in two kisses on his cheek from what he assumes to be his sister in law now. “Emily,” Katie whispers holding the little girls hand as she extends it towards Harvey, causing the little girl to repeatedly say his name.

 

Harvey smiles, his fingers falling around the little girls hand as he shakes it. “Hello, Emily,” he answers, the words barely pronounced as his legs are being pressed together by the arms of the six year old Matt. “Uncle Harvey,” the boy exclaims and Harvey swallows looking down as he caresses the kids head. “Hi..” he falls quiet as he realizes he doesn’t remember the boy’s name either.

 

“I… I’m sorry,” he takes a step back, not sure where to look. “I.. I uhm..” he points his hand towards the hallway and Katie nods. “Sure, take your time.” He looks over his shoulder again as he sighs, “thank you.” His feet carry him back to the hallway, his eyes scanning the walls. Some things still exactly the way he remembers them to be, but most things completely different.

 

He still wonders about his father, what happened, but he can only assume the worst. “It’s been fifteen years,” he mumbles to himself, repeating the words he’s heard Jessica say. He’s not ready to ask about it. Not yet.

 

.

 

He goes through the duffle bag, pulling out some t-shirts, pants and other cloths until his hands trace the surface of the photo album on the bottom of the bag. He swallows sitting down as he slowly lifts the item, letting it rest on his laps. Still closed.

 

He knows what this is. He’s not stupid, it can only be one thing. They told him he’s married to the red head. To Donna. He knows that, even if he can’t remember a single thing about it. _Monique,_ that’s the last conquest he remembers, the blonde that used to work at the desk next to big Bertha. He’s not even sure he ever pictured himself settling down, saying goodbye to the bachelor life, but the book on his lap tells him he did.

 

Opening the book, his eyes notice the title immediately. His fingers tracing  the embossed letters as he reads ‘Harvey and Donna’.  Page after page he sees himself and her. The woman that had been by his bedside when he woke up. The beautiful red head, wearing a white wedding dress. Her hair up, and her eyes seem to sparkle. Only matching the smile she wears on every picture. It’s the thing he considers to be the most beautiful about her.

 

He swallows turning another page as he sees himself watching her. He notices how he must have only been able to focus on her. He’s holding her in his arms, and she’s holding him. Her head thrown back a  bit as she’s looking at him. Biting his lip he feels his chest ache. His eyes tearing up with every page he turns, only being able to wonder how much there’s still to learn about himself.

 

The sonogram that’s stuck into the album the final drop as he closes the album again. Closing his eyes he fight the headache, the feelings of guilt. _How can he not remember all of this?_

.

 

Marcus knocks on the door of his brother’s room, but when there’s once again no response he lets himself in. “Harvey?” he mumbles, the dinging tray in his hands as he walks to the older man sitting on the bed, his back leaning against the wall. The book in his hands, his head held down.

 

“I brought you something to eat, again,” Marcus continues placing a new tray on the bed side table, as he wonders if his brother has even slept last night. He hasn’t left his room since he went upstairs two days ago. “Thought you might be hungry,” the younger man continues his head crooked as he studies his brothers posture at the lack of a response.

 

“Harvey?” Marcus reaches for the album, trying to put it aside and finally Harvey looks up at him. “I don’t remember her,” the tone in his voice sad and desperate. “How can I not remember her?”

 

“You ..” Marcus swallows in the rest of his words, not wanting to make a promise he’s not sure will come true. Even though it’s all he wants for his brother and his sister in law. It’s taken them long enough and for this to rip them apart now. Life’s just not fair sometimes.  “Maybe something else will help you remember more. If you could do something now, what would it be?”

 

“Work,” Harvey raises his shoulders, “I’d go to work.” His answer making Marcus laugh, “let me call Donna for you.” “Why?” Harvey shakes his head, “you said I should try to remember something else but her, and I said work.”

 

“Because Donna’s been your secretary for almost fifteen years now,” Marcus smiles pulling out his phone. “If there’s anyone who can tell you more about your work. What you’ve done so far, it’s her.”

 

“Donna?” Harvey mumbles again, making Marcus nod. “Donna.”

 

.

 

He steps out of the house not long after the conversation with his brother, his gaze falling on the black Lexus once more. This time it’s the driver from two days ago that opens the door for him and he produces a small smile as he sits himself down. He’s still getting used to this.

 

He notices her right away, the red head. She’s already in the car and he offers her a smile. He knows she’s his wife, but he isn’t sure on how to greet her. He sees her offer him a small smile and he knows it’s her trying to cope with things. He’s seen her smile in the album, her genuine smile and this wasn’t that.

 

“So,” he breaks the suffocating silence between them after a couple of minutes. He’s shoulder raised as he hopes she’ll just start talking about something. Anything. She turns to face him, “you wanted to know more about work?” she whispers and he nods, looking out of the window again as he registers the disappointment in her tone.

 

“Yeah.. I, uhm.. “ he frowns looking through the front window this time, “aren’t we heading in the wrong direction?” his looks at her, but she shakes her head. “But isn’t the D.A.’s office-“

 

She swallows, leaning forward a bit. “Ray, could you take us to the District’s Attorney’s office first please?” she asks before she looks at Harvey again.  “We don’t work there anymore.”

.

 

She guides him through the building they once used to work. Once again proving the point as to why it comes in handy to keep in contact with Stephanie and big Bertha.  She sees him looking around, a smile on his face. One she loved seeing so much, as she just follows him now.

 

“That’s..” he pauses pointing at the door, “.. was my office,” he comments and she smiles nodding. “Yes it was,” she turns around walking to the currently empty desk outside of it.  “And this was mine.”

 

He lets his fingers run over the wooden desk as he looks at her, “so when did you start working for me? Cause you weren’t here with that Farmer case,” he lets himself lean against the desk, watching her lips curl up. “Right after you won that case.”

 

“I won,” he repeats suddenly realising he didn’t even know that. “Makes sense.” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head as she looks down, telling him she’s glad some things haven’t changed as he questions her reaction. “So... why did you start working for me?”

 

“I told you I wanted to work at your desk and you were so overwhelmed with my amazing-ness you couldn’t say no,” her words making him laugh this time. “Guess me made a pretty good team.”

 

“We do,” she nods.

 

Harvey gets on his feet again, walking around the office a bit more. Taking in the atmosphere. It feels so familiar, yet weird knowing this isn’t where he’s supposed to be. She watches him for a couple of seconds before she meets him again. “Anything else you want to know?”

 

“Everything,” he raises his shoulders, before he buries his hands in his pockets. “Fifteen years are a lot of things to tell,” she whispers, it’s not that she doesn’t want to tell him, but she also remembers dr. Lursh saying they should be careful with not too much new information. _But if he’s asking._

 

“Just the important things then,” he looks at her, “like… did we meet here? And if this isn’t where we work then where do we work. And –“

 

“Harvey,” she stops him, her hand brushing against his arm, before she pulls back again. Not sure if she can do that; touch him. They’d gone so many years without and right now she wasn’t sure on where they’re standing.  “Let’s do this one step at a time okay?” and he nods, seeing by the way her eyes are watery she was getting emotional by all the questions he’s asking. Every question from him a confirmation about how much he’s forgotten about her.

 

“We met in a bar,” she signals him to follow her.

 

.

 

He looks around, his eyes scanning the high tables, the bar stools. The four letters reading ‘crew’ on the wall behind the bar as he turns to face her again. “I used to go here,” he lets his elbow lean on the bar as he turns to face her. “I know,” she smiles mirroring his positions, “it’s the hangout of the D.A.’s office, we all went here.”

 

“And this,” she turns to face the bar again, signalling the place they’re standing. “This is where we met. You were ordering a new drink and I called you out on not finishing the drink your colleagues bought you.”

 

He lets out a laugh, “what kind of drink did they buy me then?”

 

“Anything but scotch,” she tells him, turning around to point at the booth in the corner. “You bought me drink and we continued our conversation over there. Started working together a couple of days later.”

 

.

 

He turns around looking at the bar one more time before his gaze moves back to the D.A.’s office and finally back to her in the car. “So, I guess that was my lucky day then?” he mumbles and she stares at him for a few seconds. She’d left that out just now. He couldn’t possibly know that she said that to him all those years ago, could he. “Well it’s not like you got lucky that night though,” she jokes thinking about the actual conversation they had back then, “at least not with me,” she forces out a laugh.

 

He looks away, a bit taken aback by her response. “That’s not..” he pauses swallowing, “..  I mean .. since we got married and that’s when we met?” the words sounding so surreal, but it’s really how he had meant it and he sees her smile lightly. “Why..” he starts again, “why did you say _that_ just now?”

 

Donna shakes her head thinking back to how he used to be. “You were a womanizer back then and that’s me putting it nicely,” she chuckles, “you basically asked me to have sex that day.” Swallowing he stares at her. He knows what he’s like, back then, he corrects himself, but that doesn’t make it any less weird to hear the woman you can’t remember marrying telling you you tried to sleep with her the day you met her.

 

Both of them remain silent until the car pulls up next to the firm a couple of minutes later. “And this,” she points to the building on his right, “this is where we work now.” His eyes remaining directed on the building he gets out of the car. Following her inside, towards the elevator. He sees her press the button of the fiftieth floor, the floor he remembers Jessica’s office to be.

 

“I guess it’s safe to say this isn’t Gordon Schmidt van Dyke anymore?” he asks her then and she shakes her head. “No, that wasn’t even the name when you asked me to follow you here. And after that, we’ve gone through a lot of name changes,” she pauses waiting for the elevator to arrive. She guides him outside. “But I guess you’ll like this one,” she turns him towards the back wall.

 

“Pearson Specter Litt,” he reads out loud, “Specter as in ..” “You,” she gives him this proud smile and she sees his lips curl up. His hands clapping together, he looks pleased and somehow seeing him react to this warms her heart. She never got to see his initial reaction five years ago. “Name partner,” he mumbles still trying to get used to the idea, “too bad Louis’s name is next to mine.”

 

.

 

They spend another hour at the firm, walking by both Jessica’s and Louis office. She would have brought him to meet Mike and Rachel, but she figures that to be a bit too much for today. She shows him his own office, a smile on her lips as she observe the way he lets his fingers trace the letters of his name on the glass wall. How he walks around in the office, taking the basketball’s he never touched in his hands now. Studying the records of his collection, before she sees him lift a picture frame on his desk.

 

“Christmas party 2007,” she whispers and he nods, putting the frame back. His eyes landing on her and then the cubicle behind her. “Is that yours?”

 

“Yep,” she whispers as she watches him walk towards it. Her head crooks and she wonders why he’d walk over to her cubicle, that surely couldn’t be as interesting as his own office. She follows him and she tries to hold her laugh when he asks her if he can enter her cubicle. He’s never asked that, he always just did.

 

He pulls back the desk chair, letting himself fall down in it as he watches her lean against her own desk. He’s got no clue as to why he wanted to sit down here, but something inside him told him he should. He studies her desk. Taking her calendar in his hands as he flips through it, he notices how August fifth is circled with a red marker, but he doesn’t ask what it means. Placing the item back he turns around looking at the post it’s on her computer screen.

 

“I wrote this,” he comments tapping the yellow piece of paper with his handwriting that reads ‘ **your lunch breaks with Rachel should be shorter, cause I miss you** ’. “You managed to hide your jealousy for a lot of years,” she explains him, “but once we got together - ”

 

“I didn’t want to share?”

 

.

 

The car pulls up in front of Marcus’ house again and Harvey looks at the red head next to him. He’s staying at his brother’s place, he knows that, but he doesn’t know what the appropriate way of saying goodbye to her is now. Both of them getting out of the car without a word, Marcus’ question how his day was preventing either one from saying something first.

 

“Good,” Harvey smiles,  “Just a lot of information to process, but good. Thank you, Donna,” he turns towards her, still not sure which gesture to use. _Should he kiss her, on the cheek? Give her a hug, shake her hand, or nothing at all._ She nods, remaining in place. _Nothing at all it is then,_ he swallows walking towards the house.

 

Turning around in the door opening as he notices how his younger brother hadn’t followed him. The way his brother hugs the redhead, the way she’s wiping away a tear that runs over her cheek only confirming that ‘nothing at all’ wasn’t the right option.

 

.

 

After dinner later that day Harvey sits down next to his brother on the couch, the little girl crawling on his lap and he smiles as he looks at the Barbie doll with red hair in her hands. “You gave that doll to her,” Marcus comments taking Emily in his arms, “because of Donna.”

 

He presses his lips together and scribbles something down in a notebook that was lying by his side, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. “Just writing down everything I’ve learned today,” he explains staring at the page with a somewhat blank look.

 

“Harvey,” his brother tells him, "it's not that you're not allowed to stay here, but Donna's been a mess. She needs you, your child needs you. Maybe…” he pauses as he waits for Harvey to look at him. “Maybe you should go home?" 

 

Harvey swallows and nods, knowing it's not fair for either of them. After finally getting him back she still has to miss him, because he doesn't remember her.

 

He doesn’t remember _them._

 


	7. Home

**Chapter 7: Home**

To say this evening is awkward is an understatement. He doesn't really know how to look at the woman he's supposed to live with now. He’s heard the stories she’s told him earlier this day.  He has seen the pictures, of them, but he doesn't remember.

 

He doesn't remember her and that's what makes it so difficult. Because right now he can't give her what she really needs. Him, Harvey Specter, the way he used to be. Her husband.

 

"So uhm," Donna mumbles as she's standing in the door opening wearing one of his old shirts, "where do you want to sleep tonight?" He looks at her, taking in her long legs, her hair and he can't help but smile at the attractive woman in front of him, the smirk smile he's giving her making her almost forget that it's not her Harvey anymore.

 

He absentmindedly traces her curves, his eyes fixating on the letters of the t shirt she's wearing. "You went to Harvard too?" he asks instead of answering her question about where he wants to sleep. Staying with Marcus had been easier in that way, he just had his own room. There he hadn’t been the husband, there he didn’t have to think about where he’d go to sleep. If he was supposed to share the bed with her.

 

She looks at the shirt she’s wearing. His shirt. He can hear he swallowing. "No," she whispers, "it is yours. It's your shirt."

 

He looks away then, not willing to see the tears he knows are forming in her eyes again. "I'm sorry," he mumbles as he gets up, finding it too hard to be there to comfort her, yet the reason for her tears.   "Uhm ... I'll just uhm…" he points at the couch, his hand reaching for a blanket.

 

"Ooh," she sighs turning away, "okay."  


.

  
He turns around again, the leather couch not that comfortable as he hoped it to be. He wonders if it was a piece of furniture he picked out or if she did. He remembers Marcus telling him she moved into his apartment, that most of the stuff there was his, but that Donna made some definite changes. The fact that it isn’t that comfortable makes conclude him that it was one of his.

 

But it's not why he's still awake. It’s the sound coming from the direction of the bedroom. It are soft sobs and he knows she's crying. He also knows she's crying because of him, he just wishes he'd know who she was. Who she really was. More than just her name, that she works for him and that they’re married.   
  
Hour after hour strikes by sleep never overcoming him and he knows she hasn't fallen asleep either. The continuous sobbing giving her away. He turns on his back, going over the options in his mind. How he remembers himself to behave in such a situation vs. what he assumes to have been his behaviour. He hears Marcus’ words again.

 

_“Donna, needs you.'_ ”

 

He lets out a deep breath as he pushes away the blanket away. Tiptoeing to the bedroom. Softly knocking on the door, but when she doesn’t answer he steps inside. She doesn't even look up, her face buried in her pillow. Her breathing mingled with her sobs the only thing he hears.

 

He swallows, the sight of the woman crying making him feel angry. Angry at himself. He slowly walks towards her, sitting down next to her on the bed. Just like she was sitting next to him when he woke up in the hospital. He lets his hand remove the auburn locks that cover her face. "Don't cry," his voice shaky but soft, the sound of his voice  enough to make her gasp for air, looking up at him.

  
"I can't help it," she presses her lips together, "I… I missed you so much and now,” she pauses, temporarily swallowing in the words on her tongue. She knows it’s not fair to blame him for this, because it’s not his fault. At all. But it’s not hers either. It’s just not fair.

 

“Now that you're finally here... I .. I just-"

  
He lets his hand run past her cheek, trying to comfort the woman in front of him. "Is there anything I could do?" he whispers, his eyes not leaving her for a second, "I mean what did I use to do to help you calm down? Did I used do that?"

  
She swallows, closing her watery eyes for a second. "You would hold me,” she looks at him, “just hold me and tell me everything will be fine."

  
He swallows nodding at her, as he gets up.

  
"You don't have to," she mumbles, realizing how hard this must be for him too. Ignoring her words, he walks around the bed, sliding under the covers next to her. He hesitates for a second, the Harvey Specter he remembers to be is just a womanizer, but his brother’s words are on repeat in his head.

 

_”Donna needs you now, they need you.”_

 

He moves himself closer to her, gently wrapping his arm around her stomach and he feels her instantly relax in his arms. Her response to his touch making him feel something he didn't know he was capable of. He can only imagine the changes he's been through in the past fifteen years, as he instinctively moves his head a bit closer to her. His nose nearly buried in her hair, feeling intoxicated by a scent he can't place but feels familiar non the less.

  
She feels her breath becoming more regular, following his pattern, like he'd always say: _"Breath with me,_ " she doesn't hear him say the words now, but somehow she can't shake the idea that _her_  Harvey is still somewhere in there.

 

His fingers absentmindedly drawing abstract shapes on her baby bump. Just like he'd always done before she lost him.

 

.

 

She sits down next to him on the black leather couch. Somehow both of them on exactly their side, she brushes it off as a coincidence, what else could it be? “I brought you orange juice and a bagel with cream cheese,” she whispers, but he doesn’t answer.

 

His head is hanging low, lost in thought. Going over all the things Marcus and Donna have told him these past days. She notices how he's staring at his hands, his fingers running over the mark left by his wedding ring. "Harvey," she whispers as she waits for him to look at her. Bringing her hands behind her neck and undoes the clasp of her necklace. She holds it in front of him, his eyes immediately going to the ring that's hanging on it.

 

"This is your ring," she places it in his hand. Moving the golden object between his fingers, he reads the inscription. **_'Forever yours, Donna'_**  he swallows looking at her.

 

 "Obviously I've been very much in love with you," he states looking at the ring again. His words making her smile. "Yes," she answers, "you are .. Or were," she corrects herself, "and I loved... Still love you," she adds looking away herself now too. He lets out a sigh, wishing he could say the same.

 

He knows she’s special, she’s something different, but love?

 

"You said we met fifteen years ago,” the ring still between his fingers. Is he supposed to put it on? Technically he's still married to her, but is it fair? Is it fair towards her to put it on? Would she want him to? “How long have we been together?"

 

She lets her eyes fall down once more. "Little over eighteen months ago," she tells him, "we got married half a year ago." He frowns, not sure he understands why it had taken them that long if they met fifteen years ago. How could they've only gotten together so recently?  "So in all those years we had _just_ gotten together?"

 

She doesn't answer but he takes it as a yes. "I'm sorry," he mumbles his hand on her knee, "obviously I didn't know what I was missing."

 

Donna looks down to his hand on her knee. It’s the smallest gesture, but it isn’t something he would have done all those years ago. The tension between them had always been too much, the touches shared between one another becoming less and less ever since the.. “ _The other time,”_  she whispers barely audible.

 

He doesn’t even know about the other time.

 

Her left hand covers his and she squeezes it briefly, his last words reminding her of that conversation she once had with Dr. Agard. She never saw the woman again, not even herself after the accident. “It’s okay,” a small smile on her lips as she looks at him. With the ring in the palm of his left hand he brings his hand towards her.

 

“Do you.. Do want me to wear it?”

 

She feels her chest tighten, her breathing faltering for a few seconds. “Uhm,” she hadn’t expected him to say this. Not that she had anticipated anything in particular, but this still surprised her. “Uhm,” she’s shaking her head, trying to clear her mind. “Only if you want to,” she decides then, her eyes still fixed on the ring. Suddenly afraid to look at him, to hear the answer.

 

He swallows, hoping she would have told him what to do. “I uhm..” he brings her right hand to cover his hand with the ring. “I don’t know if it would be fair, to you,” he looks at her, “both I mean. To not wear it or to do.. it just.. I don’t know if –“

 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she whispers, taking the ring from his hand. Putting it back on the necklace. “I’ll keep it for you,” she adds, her hands shaking a visible reaction to the decision she just made, she’s struggling with the clasp behind her neck. “Could you?” she turns around and he nods.

 

Lifting her hair, he’s surprised by that familiar smell he can’t place again and he smiles softly. Placing her auburn locks over her shoulder, before he takes the delicate chain from her, closing it behind her neck. “Perfect,” she hears his mumble and for the briefest moment it takes her back to all the times he’d closed the zipper of one of her dresses.

 

Or unzipped her for that matter, all the times his hands brushed through her hair. All the times she felt his warm breath tickle her skin, his lips in her neck as he whispered that word. _”Perfect.”_

“Donna,” he calls her name, waking her from her thoughts again. She gradually turns to face him again, still feeling her heartbeat in her chest from that tiny and nearly insignificant moment they just shared. His hand brushing past hers as he speaks. “I want you to tell me almost everything.”

 

“Almost?”

 

“Yes. Almost,” he confirms pulling his hand back, before it gets balled into a fist. “I want you to leave out really small things, just a few things only you and I would know,” he looks at her not sure if he’ll actually be able to deliver this promise.

 

“In case.. In case I might remember, so I could prove it.”

 

.

 

He turns around in his desk chair, taking in the Manhattan skyline from this height. After two and a half weeks of sitting at home, he finally managed to convince her he’s ready for work again. His other home. And it wasn’t like he had nothing to do, there were so many things to find out about himself. About them, but somehow he felt bored. As if something was missing.

 

She only agreed to let him go when he argued that being a lawyer is something he remembers being and going to work again might actually be a positive signal for him. For them. She’d still be there with him every second. Only twelve feet away from his desk.

 

He lets his eyes roam over all the awards in the window sill again. The basketballs, the pictures. This is what he did. This is what he was good at and his signature smirk fell on his lips as he concludes that today was a good day. A hectic, but good day. He didn’t meet any of his clients yet. Not only Donna and Marcus had told him not to, but even Jessica had come by to check he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He did meet his associates. He can’t remember them either, but they seem to be a lovely couple.

 

“Donna,” he walks up to her cubicle, his elbows leaning on the edge as she looks at him surprised. “No intercom but you walking up to me?” she teases him, the confused look on his face pulling her back to the current situation. “Ooh,” she mumbles, “Uhm.. usually.. you.. uhm, you’d use the intercom if you need me to do something.”

 

He’s lost in thought for a few seconds, mentally taking a note that he would change that from now on. That he’d walk towards her more often if he needed something. “Harvey,” he shakes his head looking at her again as he clears his throat, leaning on his elbows again.

 

“I was thinking..”

 

“Were you?” a perfectly sculptured eyebrow raised at him.

 

“Very funny,” he rolls his eyes not used to the witty comebacks of this woman, but he likes it. “I thought, maybe we could grab dinner tonight? Celebrate –“

 

“Celebrate what?” her head crooked, her eyes locking with his and he loses his words again. “Uhm.. ,” he wishes he could say something about him remembering her, but he can’t. “Celebrate that we work together again?” it’s a compromise, but his words make her smile and he takes that as something positive. “Sounds good,” she whispers making him nod as he gets on his feet again. “Good.”

 

“Donna,” he turns around again, “do you … do you know a good restaurant?” he looks down, his hands buried in his pockets, feeling weird about asking his wife out for dinner and then not even knowing where to go. “You know, uhm… because the restaurants I remember probably don’t even exist anymore,” he tries to make a joke out of this embarrassing situation, but for her it was exactly how it had always been between them.   “I’ll take care of it,” she smiles at him.

  

.

 

He looks around the restaurant. The lights are dimmed, warm colours surrounding them just like the soft music playing in the background. Couples having dinner at every table around them, his eyes falling back on Donna again. He watches her for a second, the way she smiles. The way she looks over her right shoulder as if she’s afraid to look at him, but her eyes are telling another story as his meet hers once more.

 

“So, we used to go here for dinner?” his hand tapping on the table as he looks at the menu again. “Yes, every year on august 5th. To celebrate the day I came to work for you,” she smiles and he nods looking around again. His eyebrows in a frown as he faces her again.

 

“So we had dinner here every year on the exact same day,” he repeats out loud, trying to make sense of her words and the situation they’re in. “Candle lights everywhere, just you and me amongst all these other couples?”

 

“Yep,” she nods, biting her lip. “And you’re sure it was just work? Never an actual date?” he sees her shaking her head. He lets out a sigh, his mind still going over the possible why’s as for it was always just work between them. “Maybe I was afraid of risking what we had?” he comments then and he sees her nod, acknowledging his words.

 

“Well,” she closes her eyes for a second thinking about it, “there was this one time –“ her sentence interrupted as a waiter stops next to their table. Donna’s head turning to face the young man, while Harvey keeps looking at the menu in his hands.

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man speaks, “my name is Mitchell and I’ll be your waiter for tonight,” Donna’s eyes big she looks back to Harvey as she hears him sigh loudly. His face in a frown and his jaw clenched, but he doesn’t speak. “Have you made your decision yet?”

 

“Uhm..” she looks at Harvey for a second, who’s still frowning at the menu and she figures it’s either because he doesn’t remember what his favourite dish is or because the waiter’s name is Mitchell, but he couldn’t know that either. Could he?

 

“We’ll both take the slow roasted lamb,” she tells the man before facing Harvey again. “It’s your favourite.”

 

.

 

A tumbler with two fingers of the amber liquid resting in his hand, he stares at the burning fireplace in the near distance. His legs placed on the couch, crossed at the ankles, the photo album opened on his lap as he lets out a deep breath. His eyes briefly  falling on their wedding picture again. He’s been looking at the pictures for nearly two months now, but things are still a blur.

 

He thinks about the conversation he had earlier that day with Marcus. Him telling the things he’s learned so far. His story for a large part containing all the details she’s told him, some other things he discovered on his own by reading old letters and notes and some things slipping into his story because he assumed them to be that way.

 

He really thought he was doing a great job, but the amount of times Marcus had to correct something in that story indicating otherwise. He wasn’t there  yet. Most things still unknown.

 

Lifting his head from the album, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom. _Their bedroom._ He watches her for a few seconds as she’s standing in front of the mirror. A white dress hugging her every curve, perfectly accentuating the growing baby bump. Her hand moving over her belly to her hair, he watches her hands bringing her auburn lock together.

 

“Don’t,” he mumbles out loud, still looking at her as she turns to face him. A playful smile on her lips, she raises an eyebrow waiting for an explanation. “I.. I like your hair down,” he tells her, his words barely pronounced as he sees her remove her own hands again. The red locks falling over her shoulders again. The smile she’s giving him making him swallow and he looks away, breaking their eye contact again.

 

She smiles, looking away herself too as she moves towards him. Walking around the couch, she sits down on the arm rest he’s leaning against. Her hand squeezing his shoulder as she watches him look through their wedding album.

 

His right hand covers hers on his shoulder as he tilts his head backwards a bit. A smile on his face again as he looks at her again. He’s not sure what he’s doing, grabbing her hand or what this all means for that matter, but it feels right.

 

“Donna?” he whispers shifting a bit, so he can look at her better. Their hands untangling again as he leans forward, placing the glass of scotch on the table, before he leans against the backrest again.  “Did I have a nickname for you?” he looks to his left.

 

She looks at him, folding her hands in her lap, thinking about an answer. “Did I call you Red?” he mumbles, it’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems fitting. He looks around again, his eyes falling on the fire place.. “or fire?”

 

She lets out a laugh. “Red sometimes, but mostly just Donna,” she smiles as he repeats her name in a few different tones. “What were you doing?” she points at the album. Harvey turns over another page, “just looking again. Seeing if there’s anything I.. I remember.”

 

She taps his shoulder, mumbling a move over as she slides down next to him. Pulling half of the album on her lap as she starts telling him about their day, page by page more details he could have never imagined by just looking at the pictures. She turns another page around, seeing a picture of them at the altar. “You had the biggest smile when I walked down the aisle,” she whispers, “at first you still looked to the ground, but as soon as I turned to corner you looked up. And I know everyone else in the room did the same, but all I saw was you and this big Cheshire cat smile on your face.”

 

He looks to her from the side of his eyes, how she’s smiling at the pictures in front of them, but her eyes watery. One tear dropping over her right cheek and he brings his left hand towards her. His thumb wiping it away, “you looked beautiful.”

 

“Thanks,” she let her head rest against his hand for a while, before he let his hand brush over her cheek and move over her shoulder. Pulling her head against his chest as he just holds her. His lips pressing a kiss on top of her head, asking her to tell more about their wedding day.

 

Page after page he listens to her words, making it sound so perfect and until now every day with her had been close to that. Perfect. He could only agree that their wedding day organised by her must have been exactly that.

 

He recognizes the paper that’s stuck between the pages, it’s the sonogram. He lifts it up and he turns it around, his fingers moving over the picture. A comfortable silence falls between them as both of them just look at the image. Her eyes dropping to her belly as she feels the baby moving around.

 

Donna grabs his hand, rapidly moving it to her stomach. Her eyes not leaving him as she sees how he’s in complete awe. That same smile returning on his face she had just described seeing when they got married.

 

“Wow,” the only word he’s able to pronounce as the kicking stops, his eyes meeting hers. Their heads only inches apart, neither of them speak as they breath in sync. Momentarily glancing at her lips, he swallows looking away again.  

 

“How far along are you now?” he breathes, using words to break the tension between them. “Six months now,” closing her eyes for a moment to recover from whatever she expected to have happened just now. “A girl, right?” he picks up the sonogram again. “Have you thought about a name yet?”

 

“No,” she admits, “I really wanted to think about that with you.”

 


	8. Gordon

**Chapter 8: Gordon**

She turns to her right side, bringing her right arm up under her head as she watches him. His arms folded under his head as he’s lying on his back. The duvet pulled to his middle. She laughs as he comes up with another variant of his own name.

 

“Hartley,” he mumbles staring to the ceiling, “Or Harriet?” he turns his head to the left, but she shakes her head. “Harriet is the name I used if I went out with Rachel for drinks.”

 

“Harriet?” he repeats.

 

“Yeah, I’d be Harriet Specter and she would pretend to be Michelle Ross,” she tells him her fingers tapping the matrass, “so no Harriet.”

 

“Regina?” he smirks at her and she closes her eyes, biting her tongue to stop herself from laughing once more. “Marcia? Jamie?” he continues before he gasps as if he’s found the perfect name. “Or.. or.. Gordiana After..”

 

“Gordon?” she sees him nod . “Did Marcus tell you about him?” she looks down, feeling bad for not even thinking about this. He shakes his head, “No.. but he passed away didn’t he?” he swallows looking at her, somehow holding onto a last strand of hope. That as long as it’s not said, it’s not real.

 

“Yes, a heart attack.”

 

She listens to him swallow heavily, how his eyes close and she knows that by the way his jaw clenches he’s trying to stop the tears. “Tomorrow is actually the anniversary of his death,” her words replaced by a soft sob coming from the man next to her and it pains her to see how he has to relive this loss all over again.

 

She remembers how he didn’t let anyone comfort him all those years ago. How she’d brought him the news, but he only nodded turning away from her. Never allowing her to see him grieve. This time it was different. His eyes still closed, a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

She moves closer, her hand brushing against his cheek. Wiping away the tears with her thumb and index finger. Letting her head rest on his chest, she wraps her arm around him as she tells him how proud his father was of him.

 

He swallows ones more, brushing his own hand over his face before he removes his left arm from under his head, wrapping it around her as they continue to hold the other in silence.

 

.

  
She lets out a yawn as she walks towards the  kitchen. It was a very emotional night for both of them, yet she hasn't slept that good since ages. In his arms, she’d finally felt safe again, but she's still tired non the less. Her eyes looking down at the cause of that, her hand running over her belly.

 

She spots him on the couch, reading the newspaper and for a second it's like he's never left. The same couch, the same position, the same way the morning sun hits his frame, the same voice, but not the same man. Not really.

 

"Harvey," she asks her hands already reaching for a cup from one of the cabinets. He turns around at the sound of her voice, his eyes meeting hers before she can continue her question. "Do you want a cup of coffee?" she asks, her eyes still locked with his. "Yes, please," he nods before looking to his newspaper again.

 

"With vanilla."

  
The words resonate inside her head. The cup she was holding slipping from her hands to the floor. Falling into a hundred pieces, just like her heart did when she heard about the accident all those months ago. His head pops up at the sound of the porcelain hitting the ground. "Donna?" he exclaims, "everything okay?" he adds walking over to the kitchen.

 

He sees her stare at the pieces of the cup, her bare feet between them. "Stand still," he tells her kneeling down and removing the sharp pieces around her. He looks up at her, still a shocked look on her face. He gets back up on his feet, "Donna," he mumbles, "is everything okay?”

  
"Your... Your coffee.”

  
"Hey.. It's okay.. We'll just get another cup," he reassures her. His hands hooking around her elbows. "It’s just a cup, it's no big deal."

  
"Your coffee..," she mumbles again, her eyes now fixated on him, "what did you say you want?" just making sure she actually heard him say those words.  He looks at her confused, "vanilla," his words now causing her to cover her mouth with her hand. Masking a nervous laugh.

  
He frowns at her reaction, "what's wrong?"

 

"Nothing," she smiles her hand reaching for a new cup and the vanilla, not sure if she has to tell him or not. But she now knows that deep down, deep down _her_  Harvey is still there. Somewhere buried deep inside him, is the man that does remember her.

 

.

 

Her back is pressed against the red faux leather chair of the train, her head resting against the window as she takes in the changing landscape. She’s only been there two times, the funeral and last year. When he asked her to come along.

 

She lets out a sigh as she sees him sitting in the same position as minutes ago. His mind clearly trying to catch up with everything. “Harvey, are you okay?” Her voice making him snap out of his thoughts and he looks down. She expects him to ask questions about his father she doesn’t really want to answer. How often did he see his father when he was still alive? Did he visit his father’s grave often?

 

But the question on his mind is something else entirely. “What was wrong with my coffee this morning?”

 

“Nothing,” she leans forward, “nothing at all. You started drinking your coffee with vanilla because of me, that’s all,” she smiles. Staring at her, his mind goes on overdrive. “You hadn’t made coffee with vanilla for me before this morning right?”

 

Donna moves back against the bench. “No, I didn’t,” she looks away, her head popping up as realization finally hits her. “OMG I didn’t,” she leans forward, her hands on his knees.

 

“And you’re absolutely sure you made me drink it?” he ask levelling his head with hers. She frantically nods her head, “first day I started working for you. I uhm… I was waiting for you and I had this cup of coffee. I handed it to you, told you it had vanilla in it and you laughed at me,” she pauses for a second before she impersonates his voice. “For the record I don’t take my coffee with vanilla,” she tells him the words he’d said to her back then. “But you did, since that day you did.”

 

“So I –“

 

“You.. you remembered something,” she blurts out, feeling his hands cup her face. The rest of her sentence remains unspoken as her lips slowly part. His nose barely brushing against hers, his excitement about remembering something not making him think clearly at the moment. “I’m sorry,” he pulls back dropping his hands. She just smiles at him, swallowing, pretending this didn’t just break her heart all over again. “You remembered,” she lets her head rest against the window again.

 

“I wish I remembered more,” he mirrors her position, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. Letting his hands free near her proves to be difficult. His instinct taking over some times and it’s not that he doesn’t find her attractive because he does. It’s not that he wouldn’t want to kiss her either, because he would. He just doesn’t want to give her any falls hope.

 

.

 

It hits him seeing the grave in front of him now. How at first he just didn’t want to hear it for it to turn real, seeing the stone was that final thing that made it real. He feels his throat dry, his stomach turn as  he wonders what the last conversation with his father could have been. Squatting, his fingers trace the engraved letters of the Belgium bluestone.

_Gordon Specter._

_Loving Father_

He freezes when her hand slips over his shoulder. Squeezing his already tensed muscles, before he hears her whisper his name. Looking up to her over his right shoulder he gets back on his feet. Watching her bring her bag to the front as she slowly opens it, handing him two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

 

“You’d.. uhm.. “ she brings her bag on her arm again, “you’d place the glasses on top of it and pour two drinks. Drinking one yourself and the other.. the other was for him.”

 

He swallows, doing exactly as she told him. With the small glass in his left hand he steps back next to her. The back of his hand brushing past hers, before she holds it, their digits intertwining. “Thank you.”

 

.

 

“Do you mind celebrating him today?”  She closes the door of the fridge, turning to face him. Not sure what to say, because he’d never really done that. At least not to her knowledge or with her. He notices by the way she remains silent that this request was new. That he didn’t do these kind of things before and he wonders if he’s gone softer. If this amnesia thing changed him much personality wise.

 

“Nothing big,” he leans against the counter. His arms folded over his chest, but his shoulders raised quickly. His way of acknowledging that he knows this is something new. “Thought I could make his favourite dinner and maybe listen to one of his records?”  He’s begging her.

 

“Of course,” she smiles stepping closer, placing her hand on top of his. “Just tell me what to do.”

 

Her words lifting a weight from his shoulders he can only assume being related to a feeling of guilt. About his father. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his arms unfold and wrap around her shoulder in a blink of an eye. His lips pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “Could you put on your favourite record?” his breath tickling her skin.

 

He can hear her swallow as she nods, pulling away from his embrace and he realizes what he’d just done. It wasn’t something he planned to do. It must have been an instinctive thing. His body reacting on her presence. Brushing his hand through his hair he sighs.

 

The excuses his mind kept telling him these past months about how it wouldn’t be fair to her not even making sense anymore. How could they if being around her felt so good?

 

He washes his hands, pulling out two aprons and he helps her put one on. Her pregnant body preventing her from being able to wear hers, he finds himself dressed in a soft pink apron with cupcakes on it that’s just a tad too small for him, but if it makes her laugh he’ll wear it proudly.

 

“We’re making pasta,” he tells her before she can even ask, but he knows that was the question as he saw her looking at the ingredients. “Do we have a pasta machine?” Her mouth drops a little, before she presses her jaws together. Giving him an apologetic look, “I might have broken that. Sorry.”

 

“No problem, will do it how dad taught me then.”

 

.

 

She’s standing next to him, working side by side in perfect synchronisation, like the team they always were. Her cutting the vegetables while he’s working on the mixture of flour and eggs. Her eyes drifting off to the movements his muscular hands are making. She swallows, pushing back the memories of the last time his hands touched her like that.

 

He feels her eyes burning his skin. She’s looking at him and he knows it, his smirk smile appearing as his hands move in a slower pace resulting in her breaking her gaze on him. He glances to the right, seeing her focus on the vegetables. A strand of hair hanging in front of her eyes, he sees her lips stick out, her breath lifting the auburn locks slightly until they fall down again.

 

He quickly brushes his hand past the apron before his fingers scrape over her cheek, bringing the loose curls behind her hair. Her eyes closing fleetingly, as she shivers under his touch. “Thank you,” her eyes still on the cutting board in front of her. Afraid to look at him, she continues with the task at hand. Realising he does the same as she hears the sound of running water hitting the sink, she promptly puts her knife down. Lifting the cutting board in one go before she disposes the diced items in the pan he’s stirring now.

 

She turns around quickly again, her hand around the rolling pin before he can grab the item. Not sure she’d be able to handle seeing him mould something else than her right now. She’s knows she’s practically attacking the pasta dough, but it’s the only way to get her bottled up frustrations out of her.

 

Her breathing gives away how she’s struggling, that and the way her arms are tensed making robotic like movements. He lets go of the wooden spoon, stepping up behind her his fingers slide over her bare arms until his hands cover hers. “Harvey,” she freezes on the spot, her eyes closing.

 

“Softer, just follow my lead.” His words making her body melt against his as he moves their hands over the dough. Her eyes still closed she focuses on his voice, the way his five o’clock shadow brushes her cheek. Upon hearing him whisper ‘perfect’ she absentmindedly lets her head fall back against his shoulder. The warmth of his breath caressing her collarbone.

 

“I..” he whispers. She’s waiting for his lips to be pressed against her freckly skin, he’s waiting for her to take his hands and wrap them around her. Neither of them taking that first step. “I..” _love you,_ he closes his eyes surprised by his own thoughts. “I should look at the sauce,” his voice already sounding distant as he moves to the other end of the kitchen.

 

She sighs.

 

.

 

It’s not quiet over dinner. Stories about Gordon being exchanged, she pretends to hear them for the first time and he listens eagerly to the stories she’s telling him. Their mouths never stopping out of the fear their hands or bodies will take over. They’re pretending like nothing has happened and he can’t help but wonder how often they’ve done this in all those years before they’d gotten together.

 

_Pretending,_ he repeats the word in his head. Now not even sure if they’re pretending nothing happened, ignoring the moment in the kitchen. Or if they’re pretending to be the way they used to be, something they’re not anymore?

 

But why does being near her feel so good then?

 

“Let me clear this,” she smiles, taking the plates from his hand as she walks over to the kitchen. The soft sounds of his father playing in the background coming to a halt and Harvey walks over to the record player.. Searching through the records for something else. _Something to dance on,_  he shakes his head pushing away the thought as he glances to his left again. Observing her from a distance.

 

_She’s so beautiful._

Not being able to find the record he’s looking for, he flips the orange record between his fingers. Pulling it out of the cover before he switches it with the record still on the player. The room around them filling with the familiar sounds of ‘Let’s get it on’.

 

“Seriously?” Donna mocks him, her eyebrows raised as she walks over to him. “Marvin Gaye?” she adds, but he doesn’t seem to get what she’s referring to. A stupid grin on his face, his shoulders moving up and down as he walks around the couch again towards the record collection. “It’s not my fault you scratched my Miles Davis,” he counters then.

 

“What?” she brings her hands to her face, her mouth dropping again and he just stares at her, confused. “The record you scratched with your nail,” he scoffs like it’s no big deal. It’s just a record after all.

 

She nearly jumps up from her spot, her arms falling around his neck. His arms wrapping around the small of her back in reflex, his head resting in the crook of her neck. His eyes closed he listens to her saying he remembered that and he takes in that familiar smell again he now knows is her vanilla flavoured shampoo.

 

His hands simultaneously moving to her waist as her hands move down his arms. Resting on his biceps as she slowly lifts her head, her cheek brushing past his until their eyes lock. Both their chests moving up with every breath they take, their noses nearly touching.

 

Her head tilts the slightest, her top lip scraping his bottom lip. Her eyes already closing she feels him pronounce her name directly on her lips, but neither of them move.

 

“Kiss me,” she begs him in a whisper.

 

He swallows, their eyes locking once more. “Donna,” he breathes, “you’re one of the most amazing –“

 

“Please?”

 


	9. New Life Old Love

**Chapter 9: New Life, Old Love**

He’s confused, his heart winning it from his mind more often lately. This isn’t him, or is it? Is this how he is or used to be around her? He’s never experienced anything quite like it. She’s different, she’s the exception. She’s the one.

 

The one that holds his heart, he realizes as he moves a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers caressing her cheek before he pulls her even closer. His lips capturing hers in a sweet kiss. A soft moan escapes her lips when he pulls away after the first contact.

 

He gasps for air himself, his heart beating faster than he’s ever experienced and his mind goes blank making his head tilt slightly to the right. He leans back in, his lips capturing hers hungrily this time. Her hands fisting his shirt as his tongue slides over her moist lips. A small kiss on the corner of her mouth as his name fills the limited air between them.

 

His fingers pressing against her ribcage dipping her backwards, her lips escaping his in a gulp as her hands still cling onto his shirt. He smiles, his eyes locking with hers as she gives him the smallest nod. Her hands moving over his chest to his neck as she pulls him back.

 

Placing pecking kisses on his lips, his feet take two steps until her back leans against the couch. The impact of the backrest stopping their movement, making her gasp loudly before his mouth crashes on hers again.

 

Her tongue touches his and even after all this time he still tastes like his favourite bottle of scotch. Her delicate hands moving over his face, trying to capture every single detail from his frame she longed to touch for so long. His hand sliding from her waist to her hip, over her bottom to her thigh. Lifting her up in one swift movement until she sits down on top of the back rest.

 

His hand desperately moving over her body as if he’s touching her for the first time and in a way he is. His fingers hook around her knee, his thumb drawing abstract patterns. His eyes opening again. He doesn’t remember himself ever doing this with his eyes nearly opened all the time, but all he wants right now is seeing her too. Taking a mental picture of how she looks with every breath she takes. How her breath falters as she shivers under his touch. How her eyes seem to sparkle every time he catches her gaze. Feeling her smile through their kisses, there’s not a single thing he wants to miss.

 

He’s pretty sure he’s blatantly staring at her, but he doesn’t care. His heart only warming as she throws her head back, a laugh escaping her lips. The freckled skin of her neck that’s been teasing him for the past two months now free for him to explore.

 

“Harvey,” she moans, his lips alternating soft kisses, bites and tucking from her collar bone to her ear. His hot breath tickles her skin as he pronounces her name in a way she yearned to hear. When she undoes the buttons of his shirt his hands slips under her dress and over her thighs.

 

His dress shirt drops to the floor and she helps him discard her dress soon after. Capturing her arms with his hands while they’re still above her head and he stares at her in awe. Her pale skin a bit flushed and he can already see the marks his lips had left on her body.

 

She smiles nervously, his eyes burning her skin making her breathing become a bit unsteady. She hooks her legs around his then, pulling him closer again. Her motion taking him off guard, his hands slide down her arms to her waist again, making her squirm on the spot, her belly touching his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes and she laughs kissing him.

 

“We’ve been through worse,” her fingers on his moles, drawing the line where the bandage once used to be. His hand covering hers as he takes two steps back. She looks at him surprised, bringing her legs back together out of reflex as is she knew what his next move would be, his right hand moves under knees. His other arm hooking around her back as she lifts her up, her head pressed against his chest as he carries her to the bed room.

 

.

 

Trying to catch his breath, his eyes are still directed to ceiling he feels her smiling against his chest. Her head now in the crook of her neck, her fingers tracing lines on his chest. “Wow,” he smiles, his hand running through her hair until his arm rested on her shoulders. “Wow,” he mumbles again, his lips pressing a kiss against the top of her head, “that was. .that ..”

 

She lifts her head slightly, her eyes meeting his and she shakes her head. “Don’t you dare say better than you remembered,” her hand tapping his chest. His hand catches hers, his smile fading a little. “I wish I could,” he sighs, “but that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

 

“I’m sorry,” her head on his torso again, listening to his heart beat as she waits for him to elaborate on what he was going to say. “I know it will sound weird,” his hand rubbing her shoulder, “and I don’t know how.. or why.. because it’s not like we ate that earlier today..”

 

“Harvey?”

 

He shakes his head, “I’m probably insane.. but you tasted like whipped cream.”

 

.

 

He lets out a yawn, his hand rubbing his eyes before he opens them to the most beautiful sight yet. Yes he’s woken up next to her every morning these past two months, but never like this. A naked Donna still in his arms, their legs intertwined and her head still on his chest.

 

“You’re staring,” she whispers then, rolling out of his arms, pulling the sheet to cover herself a bit as she lets her back rest against the head board. He mirrors her move, his shoulder nudging against hers. “I can’t help it that you’re so beautiful.”

 

She looks down, blushing. She’s always been shy when it comes to compliments from him. The only ones that really mattered to her. “You’re still here,” she comments it’s a weird thing to say and somehow it isn’t looking back to the very first time they slept together.

 

“Where else would I be?” he pulls her closer and she lets out breath as her head rest on his shoulder, feeling his arm hold her close again. “Donna,” he whispers then, “where do we go from here? With me still not remembering you?”

 

“We’ll take one step at a time,” her hand caressing his cheek. “I’m not going to let you go after all it took to get us together and if it bothers me? A bit, but not having you at all is far worse,” she closes her eyes. “I thought you had died,” a tear drops from her cheek on his chest and he pulls her closer in his arms. “I’m still here,” he kisses her temple.

 

“I know,” his words meaning more than the fact that he’s still alive. “And you do remember,” she smiles, “it are little things.. but you do.”

 

.

 

The door falls shut behind her, a smile already spread over her face as she knows he’s there waiting for her. It’s the first night in two and half months since he’s back that she’s done something for herself. A night out with Rachel, nothing big. Just dinner and a cup of tea for her.

 

She scans the living room, placing her bag on the kitchen counter as he’s nowhere to be seen yet. “Harvey?” she calls for him as she comes back from the empty bedroom. “Here,” she hears him call back, and she lets out a relieved sigh as her head turns to the left. Now only noticing how the door was left ajar.

 

Swallowing she walks herself over to the room she hasn’t set a foot in since the accident. _The Baby Room._  He had been so enthusiastic. Cleared the room the second she told him they were expecting a child. Painting the walls white again, ordering whatever he thought they needed.

 

The boxes arrived a day before the accident.

She never opened them.

 

Her fingers fall against the wooden door, slowly pushing it open she sees him sitting on the ground between scattered pieces of cardboard. A beautiful white crib placed in front of the wall behind him. “Ooh my god,” it are the only words she’s able to pronounce as she’s left in shock. Her hand covering her mouth as she turns around on her spot, taking in the rocking chair in the corner with a pillow looking like a basketball placed on it. Closing her eyes she remembers him convincing her that their kid whatever it would be, would play basketball.

 

“Like it?” he lifts himself up from the floor, wrapping his arms around her as her stands behind her. “It’s perfect, Harvey,” her arms resting on his as she feels the baby kick, a sign of approval from the soon to be occupant of the room in question.

 

“Did you feel that?” her digits intertwine with his as she moves his hand to the left. “I think she likes the basketball pillow,” his lips placing a kiss in her neck, his words making her smile. “I think so too.”

 

He lets go of her then, walking back into the room to grab a paper bag. A big grin plastered on his face he hands it to her. “For our little girl,” he beams waiting for her to open the gift. She looks down, shaking her head a bit as she can’t believe how this moment feels exactly like that day after she told him.

 

“Harvard Law,” she reads out loud, her eyebrows raised as she looks up and down from the romper in her hands to his. “Like it?” he beams and she can’t help but smile. “I got it with handing in the appliance form for the year 2037.”

 

“What?” Donna laughs out loud now as she leans back against one of the cabinets in the room. “Well,” he lifts her up placing her on top of it. His hands on her belly as he moves his head closer. “This one here would be an awesome lawyer.”

 

“And what if she wanted to become an actress.”

 

He smiles, looking up to meet Donna’s eyes. “Then she would be just as amazing as her mother,” he counters placing a kiss on top of the baby bump. “But whatever you want to be baby girl,” he whispers, “Your mommy loves you very much. And so does your daddy.”

 

She looks at him a bit surprised and he raises his shoulders a smile on his lips. “I do,” he nods, “I know I don’t remember everything about us..” he holds her hands, “but I do remember my dad once saying that if you meet the one, you’ll know…” he looks at her, “and that I do.”

 

Donna swallows fighting the tears as he squeezes her hands. “I love you.” His hand moves to her cheek then, wiping away the tears as she mumbles something about hormones before he kisses her. “I love you, Donna.”

 

.

 

He walks up and down the living room, handing her some magazines and something to drink. Her favourite cupcakes on the tray next to her, her favourite music on. Everything she could possible need as he tucks her in one more time. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he looks worried, the last weeks gone faster than either of them could have imagined. “Harvey I’m pregnant, not sick or immobile,” he crooks his head, “okay maybe I’m a big whale who can’t get up without the help from someone else.. but I’m fine. I am. You go.”

 

He shakes his head, kissing her goodbye. “You’re not a whale, you’re beautiful,” he counters and she laughs at them. “Whales are beautiful too,” she argues and he lets out a sigh. “Is this how it’s going to be, you always having the final word?”

 

“Yeah, but you knew that when you married me.”

 

He rolls his eyes, “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” Putting on his overcoat he walks back towards her one last time. “Are you sure? I could just work from home. Stay here with my wife.”

 

She bites her tongue, staring at him as she shakes her head. “You have a meeting with Teddy Doyle today and I won’t let you postpone that again. Now go and bring me a bagel on your way back.”

 

“Your wish is my command.”’

 

.

 

His fingers tap nervously against the table in a constant rhythm, checking his phone every minute as they wait for the client to arrive.  “You were never this nervous before,” Mike comments his elbow poking Harvey’s arm. “It’s just Teddy Doyle. He’s been your client since .. since forever.”

 

“What?” Harvey’s head snaps to the right, looking at his associate. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You’re nervous for a meeting, you were never nervous before.. uhm,” Mike looks away. “You can say the word, it’s not prohibited or anything.”

 

 “Accident,” Mike looks at his boss. “What’s wrong?”

 

Harvey lets out a breath, his finger pushing the home button of his phone once more. “It’s not the meeting.. it’s Donna,” he swallows. “She’s almost nine months pregnant now and –“ “Why are you here then?” Mike interrupts him, “If I were you –“

 

“Well you’re not, “ Harvey looks at him phone once more, “but if this guy isn’t here in the next ten min -“

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mr. Doyle entered the conference room, interrupting the conversation between boss and associate. Both faking a smile as they signalled for the client to sit down.  “We had a small problem with some designs, but Nike is almost ready to sign.”

 

.

 

“Teddy this sounds like a good deal, but trust me it’s not,” he shakes his head. “Harvey, I want this, it’s a deal of a life time.” “It’s not,” Harvey argues pushing his hands on the table getting on his feet. “Look this deal is too good to be true.”

 

“But what if it is?”

 

“Then that’s amazing, but..” the lawyer sighs,  “just let me look into it before you sign anything, okay?” he offers extending his hand, waiting for an agreement. Mr. Doyle looks away, but shakes his lawyers hand none the less, “then I’ll give you what they gave me. Forty eight hours.”

 

Harvey’s about to agree to the terms as Jessica enters the conference room. “Harvey, I need to talk to you,” her words sounding urgent and he frowns at her, not sure why she would interrupt this deal.  “Now,” she orders, making Harvey sigh. “Mike will look after you Teddy,” his hand taps Mike’s shoulder as he follows the managing partner to her office.

 

“What’s this?” he sees her waiting with his coat in her hands, a phone in her other and a smile on her lips. “Ray’s waiting downstairs for you to take you to the hospital,” she hands him his coat, “Donna’s gone into labour.”

 

“Ooh god,” his hands shaking as he tries to put on his coat, searching for his phone to call her. Jessica shakes her head as she sees him freak out in front of her. “Here,” she helps him put on his coat, tapping him on the back. “Congratulations Harvey.”

 

.

 

He rushes into the room, his coat getting discarded somewhere between the door and the chair he pulls up next to her bed. His hand catching hers as he can’t stop looking at her. “You shouldn’t have send me to work,” he shakes his head. She rolls her eyes at him. “How was I supposed to know this would happen during your meeting.”

 

“You’re Donna,” he counters with a smile, something she tries to reproduce in the midst of the pain she’s in. “Well there’s a first time for everything,” her words reminding him of the conversation they had just this morning. “Well If I remember correctly,” he lets his thumb run over her hand, “you told me you didn’t know that I loved you.”

 

She lets out a sigh, her jaw clenching as another wave of pain hits her. Her finger nails digging into his arm, before she lets go again, her breathing heavy. And she opens her eyes again, seeing him looking at her only he could and she’s once again reminded of that one thing she never dared to know. That he loved her, but not anymore.

 

“That are two things in fifteen years and I don’t believe in ‘third time’s a charm’ so ..” she can’t even find the words as he gets out of the seat, placing a kiss on top of her head. “You’re perfect.”

 

.

 

His teeth grit as her fingernails dig into his arm once more. He’s pretty sure his arm will be blue at the end of the day, but he’s too much in awe of her to even care. Every time a contraction hits and she screams in pain, he holds her wishing he could take that pain away from her. He always considered her to be strong, but never like this.

 

In front of him was the woman that fought for them for over a decade. That stood beside him every step of the way of his career, his best friend, his wife and soon to be mother of his child. The woman that lived through thinking he died. The woman that still loved him while he didn’t know who she was.

 

The woman he loved.

 

His eyes close as she crushes his arm again, hearing her scream mix with the sound of the beeping machines in the background. He feels her body shake again, his breath falters and his eyes pop open, the sunlight entering the room blinding him for a second. His free arm making an unexpected movement, the motion followed by the sound of something shattering against the floor.

 

_A flash. A bang._

 

“Harveeeeeeeeeey!”

 

_A scream._

He shakes his head, his mouth still agape as he looks at her. “You were talking on the phone to me..”

 

“What?!” she stares at him confused, but before she gets the change to ask what on earth he’s talking about she feels her body contract again. Like a broken record her hand falls around his again, his name leaving her lips in a deafening scream of pain.

 

He shakes his head, feeling a severe headache come up. Until he feels her squeeze his hand again, her screaming bringing him back to right here. “OMG,” he exclaims looking at her, his gaze roaming her body. “OMG. You’re .. you’re in labour..”

 

She stares at him. Out of breath as the shooting pain in her stomach fades a little. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she pants, frowning at him. “Nothing,” he smiles, holding her hand as he moves closer. Giving her a quick kiss. “I’m _here_. You’re doing amazing, Red.”

 

“You’re ready to push,” the nurse tells her then.

 

.

 

He sits on the edge of the bed next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. His eyes not once having left the little girl in her arms. “She’s perfect,” he kisses Donna on top of her head, both of them not having been able to stop smiling.

 

He softly strokes the babies cheek with his finger, before he holds both his girls in his arms again. “Is it weird that I want her middle name to be named after you?” he mumbles then. “What?” she laughs, shaking her head, “You’d never survive two Donna’s in your life.”

 

He looks at the little girl in hers hands again, the tiniest bit of auburn hair coming out from under the white cap. “I already have two Donna’s in my life,” he smiles, “but I was thinking about a different name for her middle name than Donna actually.”

 

“And what’s that? Cause she’s not going to be named Roberta either,” she jokes looking at him. “I.. I’ve never really liked that name,” she sees him nod. He once told her that name didn’t suit her. “How about Debra, Debbie?” he whispers to her.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Specter,” she rolls her eyes looking down at the baby girl again. “I’ve just given birth to your daughter and you still can’t keep a girl’s name….” she stares back at him, her mouth dropping. Unable to speak.

 

“Just yours Debbie, see that’s funny because you’re name’s Donna,” he grins before kissing her. He doesn’t have to tell her, she’s Donna. She already knows he remembered that and more. “Okay,” she whispers then  on his lips and he nods, lifting himself of the bed to reach for the birth certificate as he scribbles down the full name of their daughter.

“Amanda Debra Specter,” she reads out loud with a smile, her eyes falling back to the exact spelling of the middle name and all of a sudden she realizes why he called her Debbie from time to time. “Debbie,” she whispers looking at him, “as in Debra from Debra Messing?” she shakes her head trying to hide her smile.

 

“What?” he raises his shoulders in a laugh, “she’s a redhead. Besides, you made me watch that Will and Grace marathon with you that Thanksgiving weekend.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

“I know,” he smiles is hand squeezing hers, “but you love me anyway.”

 

The End.

 


End file.
